Me And The Moon
by whatserface
Summary: Part Three: All things must come to an end. Marybeth is finished, and everyone is moving on, but what happens to Sam and Casey now? How have they changed or, moreover, how have their feelings changed? Will they find a way, or fall apart? xCOMPLETEx
1. Part One

--I do not own The Faculty; I do not own Casey Connor, Delilah Profitt, or any other character or aspect or anything like that from The Faculty. The character of Samantha Warren, although, does belong to me. Please do not use her without my permission. All reviews are welcome; but I must warn you; flames will strictly be used to roast the weenies of cheating boyfriends, _WHO'S WITH ME!_ (Also, please bear in mind that the first chapter is _always_ crap…)_--_

_Do you have an opinion?  
A mind of your own?  
I thought you were special  
I thought you should know  
But I've run out of patience  
I've run out of comments  
I'm tired of the violence  
I couldn't care less…_  
– from Special by Garbage

_Monday – _The forest green convertible pulled into a space in the school parking lot, and a new student sat in the passenger seat, starring out the window like a mindless doll. She had long, dirty blonde hair with both high-lights andlow-lights, and black underneath. Her eyes were a clear green in color. Her body was thin, maybe a little bit _too_ thin, which was probably why she wasn't very tall…

"–Have a good first day at school!"… Conveniently being the last sentence; was all she heard of her mother's mindless ramblings.

"Thanks, Ma," she said, half-heartedly, opening the door and stepping outside. She looked down at her clothes to make sure she was presentable. A yellow plaid (w/ black detail) tank dress, with a small silver belly chain, a black sweat jacket (which hung rather limp for it barely had any elastic in the cuffs and bottom lining) and combat boots.

She turned back to say goodbye to her mother but the car was already backing out and leaving. Frowning, she shut her mouth… her mother left and she stood there for a long moment, just watching, until a black car with two red stripes down the center of it came speeding in, swinging around the curve, and grinding to a halt in a parking space.

She took a few steps back and watched a guy get out. He was your stereotypical cute bad boy. He walked around his car to his trunk, popped it open, dug through it quickly, and pulled out a whole bunch of pens filled with white stuff… She arched a brow, but decided it better to not ask, so she turned and walked away towards the school.

She stopped when she reached the foot of the steps up to the doors of the high school, upon hearing the strangest noise… she recognized it seconds after she heard it, it was like _owls_ in _the woods_… _"_Whenever you hear hooting in _a high school_, it's _jocks"_… but why? She turned around slowly, as she heard someone pleading "Please, not the pole!"

She watched as a group of buff teenage guy – four of them; two definite jocks, two just your everyday rednecks – ram a smaller, meeker looking teenage guy into the flagpole… legs open. She winced as they did it again, and then dropped the boy like an old toy, laughing their empty little heads off.

She spotted the leader easily. He was warring a school jacket, white T-shirt, and blue jeans and he had slicked back blonde hair. She walked up to him, swaying her hips and arms seductively yet dangerously.

"What's your name?" she asked as she stopped right in front of him, their faces roughly two inches apart. She smiled darkly, setting her hands on her hips.

"Malloy," the jock smiled back and took on a flirting position. "_Tyler_ Malloy… And what's yours?"

"Sam Warren," she cast her eyes from one side to the other, taking glances at the other five jocks. The boy who had been polled was lying on the ground on his side, wishing they'd all just go away, and watching the new girl with fearful eyes. "Now ya'll watch this, 'cause I don't want none of you forgettin' it."

They all began to chuckle and nudge at each other and whistled loudly when Samantha haled back and shoved Tye on his back to the ground. He looked up at her with wide, turned on eyes… that is, until she raised her foot and set the heavy soul down hard against his crotch.

They all stopped cheering, and Tye yelped in pain and began to paw at her leg. She leaned down over her knee, putting more weight on it, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Now if you ever – _ever_ – do that to him even one more time," her voice threatening there but it changed to a dark and sexy purr as she finished the sentence: "I will personally make sure you never have sex again." She removed her foot from crushing the jock's special parts and stood plainly again now, his legs still parted on the ground with the knees up, about five inches away from his crotch, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Now _go_."

Not wanting to invoke the wrath of the "psychotic bitch", as they called her when they were far enough away, two of the jocks ran immediately, ignoring their injured friend, and one helped Tye up to his feet and they both ran away. She watched them go, and laughed at the way Tye hobbled, both hands holding inbetween his thighs.

When they were gone she turned around and knelt beside the boy who had been polled. He looked up at her with huge blue eyes, shinning glossily with fear, but there was an edge of curiosity behind them.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked him in a soft voice. He nodded, and she helped him sit up. "What's your name?"

"Casey," he said in a whisper, barely audible.

"Casey who?"

"Casey Connor," and just as he finished speaking a thin rivet of blood began to run down from his left nostril.

"You're bleeding," said she, and swung her backpack off her shoulder and, sitting on her legs, dug through it until she found some tissues. She pulled out a wod and handed it to him.

He looked at it, reached out very slowly and cautiously, took it, and pressing it to his nose, hesitantly. "Thank you," he said in that same barely-a-whisper voice.

"No biggy," she said, giving him the friendliest smile she could muster up. There was a queer, uncomfortable pause between them… before he said something that caught her totally and completely off guard.

"Why are you being nice to me?" he asked.

"What?" Sam chuckled out, sure that she hadn't heard right.

"Why are you being nice to me?" he repeated.

"You're serious?"

He nodded.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

He didn't answer that. Instead, he readjusted his grip on his nose and then asked: "You're new here, aren't you?"

"Yeah… I just moved from Jersey… the name's Samantha Warren… but everybody's always called me Sam."

"I know," Casey said, calmly, but still so very, very quiet.

"Oh yeah, that's right," she said as she handed him a new wod of tissue paper and said, "You kinda heard me talking to that dickwit jock."

"I have to go," moaned Casey, standing up and refusing any help she could offer. "Please, don't hang around me anymore."

"Why not?" she asked in shock, watching him pick up his bag.

"Just… don't hang around me, okay?" he shook his head and took a few steps away from her. "Please, don't try to help me; they'll hurt you… don't be my friend… you'll hurt you if you try to be nice to me… just leave me alone, okay?"

"But Casey!" she cried, jumping to her feet.

"Please, just please," he was visibly shaking and rambling.

"Casey!" she cried again, but it was too late. He turned and ran away, went inside the school, leaving her standing there, bewildered and more then slightly disturbed.

Casey sat, slouched in his chair, in his homeroom, trying to block out the sound of the other children bickering wildly before class began and studying the scratches in the wood of his desk idly. He heard the door open, heard the teacher's heavy steps walk up to the desk in the front, and didn't think of thing of the softer, clickier steps that seemed to follow the teacher's.

"Alright class, settle down, settle down," said the teacher, loud and clear above everybody else, and the sounds around Casey began to diminish instantly. "… We have a new student with us today," the teacher went on. Casey stiffened up. No, it couldn't be… it had to be another new kid, a different new kid, not her. He looked up to inspect, saw yellow plaid and jerked his head down again, but forced himself to look up once more. Black jacket, short skirt, blonde hair; it was her. "Why don't you tell the others a little bit about yourself, Samantha?"

"Sam," she groaned, as if she'd told him a million times and he never ever listened. "And like what?"

"Who you are, hobbies you enjoy, where you come from," offered the teacher. Sam took a deep sigh, obviously not pleased with these suggestions, but went one anyways:

"Alright, my name's Sam Warren and I don't go by 'Samantha' or 'Sammy' because they're both too bloody _cute_… Sam's more like a grunt; therefore not cute… I'm from New Jersey… New York's bastard cousin… I like to listen to music… _loud_. You'd think I'm a bloody doctor with all the complaints I get about headaches… I like to say 'bloody', which I'm sure none of you could ever have guess… and I like a lot of things I really shouldn't like; often resulting in punishment… can't imagine why…"

"Well I can see you're going to be quite the class clown," thought the teacher out loud, trying to look on the bright side and think maybe she was joking.

"As long as you don't expect me to ware a bloated red nose; we're cool," Sam looked back at the class and folded her arms behind her back. "Anything else you must know or else you'll die of a aneurysm?"

"Yeah, are you single?" cried a guy in the back, raising his hand above his head. Several students laughed and the guy smacked high fives with two guys sitting next to him.

"And what might _you_ do with information like that, little boy?" Sam corked with a curt little smile. The guy stopped and looked at her with his mouth opened slightly, visibly not expecting such an answer, and some students moaned as if to express that those were fighting words.

"Alright, that's enough! Sam, sit down," ordered the teacher.

"About time!" Sam exclaimed, before waltzing her way into a random empty seat. The teacher looked at her with displeasure, obviously dreading her in his class now that he knew her better.

Casey kept his head hung the entire time, and silently thanked all the Gods in Heaven when the bell rang and students began pouring out of the room almost instantly. He gathered his things and moved through the halls to his next class. He made it there without having to face either Sam or anyone who felt like beating him up right then, but his anxiety came rushing back to him when he saw Sam waltz into his second period class, as well!

Again, he hid his head, and made it through the class; though he did have suspicions that she _had_ noticed him, but had chosen not to bother … maybe she had noticed how hard he was trying to not be noticed. Either way, he went on with his day… and began to wonder why, oh _why_ did this school system hate him _so_ much when she came into his third _and_ forth period classes… had they put them both in all the same classes? She was _everywhere!_

Though he breathed a sigh of relief as the bell rang after fourth period, signaling that it was lunchtime, and hurried (which was rather uncommon for him) out of the room and onto his locker to retrieve his lunch and then out into the courtyard, where he'd rather walk and look for something to photograph then sit and hang out with friends like all the other students did; mostly because he didn't have any other friends…

Sam sat, in the courtyard of the school, under the shade of a large mangled tree… alone. She popped a grape into her mouth, even though she wasn't really hungry, and chewed it slowly, looking to her left as a car or two occasionally passed by, on which occasion she would wave to the driver, irrelevant as to who they were.

"Clear complexion," said a voice from a body standing behind Sam and to her right. "Pouty lips, cute little body… What do you think? Cheerleader material?"

"I don't know," said another voice from a body standing beside the previous speaker. "Couldn't we do something about that hair?"

Sam looked over her shoulder, ignoring the strands of hair that blew in her face, at the possessors of the voices… two teenage girls… and pretty ones, too… very pretty…

"Excuse me," Sam roused. "What _the fuck_ are you doing?"

"Oh… Hi," said the dark-haired girl, giving her a smile that she clearly practices over a trillion times in the mirror every morning. "I'm Delilah Profitt."

_Oh my God it's a walking Teresa doll_, Sam thought.

"And I'm Tina Downhouser," said the other girl, who was about the same high as Delilah, with long blonde hair that curled delicately around her shoulders and almond shaped green eyes. She dressed in a tight, pink baby tee and blue denim skirt.

"And I'm Sam," grunted the smaller, less-attractive girl. "That really doesn't answer my question, now, does it?"

"Oh," Tina laughed. "We were just…"

"You see," Delilah picked up. "I'm head cheerleader, and Tina here is secondary. One of our girls had to leave the squad because she broke her ankle about a week ago… _tragic, really_," she said this quickly, which made it come off as that she really didn't care. "So, ever since then, we've been watching out for a new recruit… we think you might work, if you'd like to try out sometime?"

"–But you'd _so_ have to lose those boots," said Tina, pointing a finger girlishly at Sam's feet. Delilah nodded in silent agreement and they both flashed pearly white teeth.

"Welp, I'm afraid we have a problem, then," said Sam, nodding solemnly. "You see, Berney and Barney aren't going nowhere…"

That dropped the smiles from both the cheerleader's faces. "You _named_ your boots?" Tina asked in disbelief.

"Oh, Heaven's no! That would be crazy," Sam shook her head. "They came with names, and told me them as soon as I opened the box… I think their mother, this lovely little machine somewhere in Pennsylvania, named them that…"

Tina's mouth fell opened and she blinked her eyes repeatedly. "… You're joking, right?" Delilah nudged her… hard… and then smiled again at Sam.

"Well… alright!" Delilah quipped. "Just, uh… think about it, and… come to us if you ever want to try out sometime."

Delilah looked over at Tina, who was scratching her nails and muttering something about how the "stupid" brand of polish "always rubs off", when Delilah gave her another sharp jab and her head snapped up and she yelped: "Yes!" then she chuckled a little nervously. "We'll, uh, be waiting."

They smiled at her again, and then walked off with sweet little waves. Sam gave them an overly sweet little wave back, and then turned back to her lunch, smirking awfully, pleased with herself and her little crack.

Casey stumbled along, not really thinking about where he was going. It didn't matter; his mind was all set on that girl… Sam.

Would he see her in his next period? Would he see her in every period? He couldn't see her in his last; that was gym and they had separate gym classes for boys and girls… but still… and why did she bother him so much? It wasn't like she was the first one to ever be nice to him… there had been several before her that tried to help him, that tried to be good to him… no; it was where they always ended up.

But maybe… maybe she could be different! Maybe she could be the one to overcome the shit heads and their work… the things they did to him and to anyone who associated with him… maybe she could be for real… but was it worth the gamble?

He winced as he remembered the pain he'd been through of others he had trusted, of others who they had turned. There'd been so many different outcomes to those who wanted to help… usually they didn't even last out the week… though there hadn't really been that many; maybe half a dozen.

Was it really worth the gamble? Was the possibility of friendship, something he'd never really known in honesty, worth the possibility of another betrayal? But did these thoughts alone mean he had grown cold? Had they really beaten the very will to _try_ out of him? Had he really_ let _them?

He winced again as he thought this. No! He didn't want to be cold, to be broken… but he didn't want to be hurt again… he was so afraid of being hurt again… like he had been so many, many times… but they had beaten the will or even idea to fight back out of him; why not the will to be saved?

He remembered her this morning, when she'd fought for him… when she'd walked up she'd looked small and innocent, kind of like him… and she'd seemed like Satan himself when she'd started flirting with Tye… until she hurt Tye, like Tye had hurt him… until she'd made threats to those other guys… until she laughed at Tye's pain like they'd laughed at his… until she knelt down and helped him… until these moments. After these moments she'd seemed so _human_, something he'd never seen at this school before… like they were equal, and she really was just trying to help.

Perhaps she _was_ for real… perhaps she _was_ human… perhaps he _should_ give it another chance, just one more spin!

_All right_, he decided; _I'll trust her_. _I'll trust this girl, Sam_. _I'll make a friend…a friend_.

He picked up the pace a little and head back towards the courtyard, with the intent of finding Sam… he didn't know what he'd do or say (which meant he'd probably clam up and stutter out an apology), but whatever it was he was going to say and do it. He turned the corner of the school and looked around… and saw, sitting at a table just under the tree a crossed from and closer to the road then Stokely's. He hurried over, but stopped dead in his tracks 3/4 of the courtyard away.

There was Delilah and Tina; he hadn't seen them before due to the bustling students, and they were talking to Sam… Delilah said something, and then Tina said something, and then they began to walk off, weaving and smiling cheerfully… and Sam waved and smiled, back.

Casey felt his heart fall in his chest and the world inside him slowed to a stop. She had already tricked him, hadn't she? She was friends with Delilah and Tina… Delilah had probably set this all up, another cruel joke against him, she loved to torment him… maybe she knew he liked her, maybe she knew he'd liked her since _junior high_, maybe that was why… he didn't know, and he didn't care.

He heard the bell behind him ring, signaling that lunch was over, and hung his head and trudged back to the prison-like building, feeling betrayal set in cold and thick in his veins, even though he'd barely known the stranger he called Sam…


	2. Crazy

_This town's always gonna think I'm a little crazy  
Somebody's always gonna try to label me insane  
Funny how I always seem to be the one who's crazy  
I just wanna live, I don't wanna fit  
If that makes me crazy, then I am…_  
– from Crazy by Meredith Brooks

Casey would see Sam in fifth and sixth period, but he'd make sure she didn't acknowledge him… and they would be separated into boys and girls different gym classes for their seventh periods, the last period of the day… but what he didn't expect was to see her on the bus home.

He'd thrown himself down in a seat and rested his forehead on the cool glass of the window, watching the noisy students pile up and onto the bus… when he saw _her_. She came jogging down the path, and the disappeared in the puddle of students surrounding the doors, only to reappear through the doors seconds later.

Casey jumped and hid his head, but it was too late; she'd already seen him. She slipped down the isle and into the isle side of the seat next to him, slinging her backpack on the floor at her feet.

"Hello, Casey," she smiled and looked up at him.

"What are you doing?" he blurted out.

"Going home," she scoffed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You weren't on here this morning!"

"What, you thought _my_ mom would drive me twice?" She laughed bitterly. "Only if she _magically_ started giving a shit…"

Casey was quiet for a moment and looked away, fidgeting uncomfortably, before it struck him that this was probably some story Delilah made up for him (she was very good at that) and that he was falling right for it, before he looked back up.

"Sam," she tipped her head to the side. "I told you, please, just leave me alone… you… you can't be trusted, I'm sorry, not… after _them_. They-they'll change you."

"Who are _they_, pray tell?"

He looked at her coldly and said in a low voice, "I think you already know."

"No, Casey, I don't," she said, irritation showing it's first signs in her voice. "I really don't, and if I did; I would be straight up about it. That's what separates me from the shit heads… and I really don't care what some bitch did to you in the past, okay? You need to get over it."

He shook his head slowly. "I can't…"

"And who told you that?" she demanded, her eyes staring him down. "Was it you? Or was it one of your so-called 'them'?"

He sunk deeper in his seat, his eyes diverting away, brows furrowing, a frown pecking at the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry, I can't, just please–"

"Casey," she interrupted him, sinking down and around so that she could look him straight in the eye. "_I'm not like the others_. _I'm not one of them_."

Casey looked up at the window to avoid her eyes, though he couldn't really… he saw the rooftops going down, and recognized this neighborhood. It was his own…

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said as the bus stopped. He stood and then shook his head ever so softly as he finished: "But I can't believe you."

… And with that, he simply turned his back on her and walked away.

Casey really did mean what he said. Sam would soon discover that the hard way. Whenever she said anything; he wouldn't listen. Whenever she tried to talk to him; he'd leave. Infact it seemed the only thing that he even said to her over the days was rejecting her offer in Bio to be lab partners and telling her not to bother when she beat up people when she caught them beating up on him… he really was cold and closed off, like an airtight box that wouldn't even allow the slightly ray of sunshine inside… and it wasn't for three days before she knew what to do… it wasn't for three days before she even had a clue.

_Thursday –_ In a slight case of irony; she'd only had the idea in fifth period, the period right after lunch, Biology Lab for her and Casey. It'd only been that morning that Sam had officially come to the definite conclusion that what was doing was not working and was not _going_ to work, and she'd been racking her brain all day for an answer… that was when Sam noticed _her_.

Casey and _her_ were pared together, being the two biggest outcasts in the entire school… though Sam was getting the beginning phases of being labeled a freak mutant, but that didn't matter just then. It wasn't the first time Sam had noticed _her_, either… _she_ appeared to be the closest thing Casey had to someone to talk to, someone who could possibly understand, though her image did give one the instant impression that she was totally incapable of caring… about anything, for that matter… but still, it was a glimmer of a chance in Sam's dark situation and she was willing to take it.

Sam spent most of that period planning what she was going to do and say, rather then honestly paying attention to Mr. Furlong's assignment, which wouldn't be too good when test time came around. She didn't know how many other periodsshe was in the same class as _her_… sixth wasn't one of them, she would learn, but the seventh and final period of the day, Gym, she did.

Sam tried to talk to _her_ then, but the screaming cheerleaders and preppy little girls they shared the period with (which seemed all the population besides _her_ and Sam) made it quite the task to find anyone in there, and she hadn't had time to change and do that before their concentration camp officer– I mean Gym coach, Ms. Cecelia, ordered everybody out to run laps or play volleyball or something stupid like that.

After about an hour, though what seemed like eternity, Ms. Cecelia blew her whistle to signal the end of it and everyone stumbled back into the locker room on tired legs. Sam changed quickly back into her street clothes and looked around for _her_. She saw _her_ already at the doorway out and leaving and bounced into a sprint, catching _her_ as _she_ turned the first corner down the hall from the door.

"Wait!" Sam called, jogging behind _her_. _She_ turned and looked back, brushing greasy strands of stray chin-length hair back behind her ears. Sam stumbled into step beside her.

"You're Sam, aren't you?" _She_ asked, looking forward again, one of her hands lazily playing with the strap of her backpack and the other swinging at her side.

"Yeah," Sam said between breaths. "And you're Stokely, right? Stokely Mitchell?"

"That's me," said _her_. Sam nodded, and Stokely went on. "So you're the one everyone's talking out… you don't look like such tough shit to me… Casey's said a lot about you, though… and sometimes I think he thinks I'm actually listening…"

_Predictable_, thought Sam.

"So," Stokely stopped walking about dropped her back against a locker, giving Sam a cool but narrow-eyed stare. "What do you want with me?"

"I need your help," Sam said quietly, imploring her with big, pleading eyes, brows furrowed ever so slightly at the inner edges. Stokely rolled her eyes but gestured for her to go on. "It's Casey. He wont talk to me, he thinks I'm like 'them', whoever 'they' are, and he says I can't be trusted. He makes it sound like there's something I did. I need to know who what it is and how I can fix it… and he seems to talk to you and stuff and if you know I really need to know so if you could just tell me you could save me an aneurysm and maybe even help Casey and a little 'cause, from what I've seen, he could really use a friend…"

Stokely was quiet for a minute, giving Sam only a blank stare, before she started to laugh and pushed herself away from the locker and began walking again. "Is that all this is?" she chuckled, looking at Sam. "So you really wanna help him?" Sam nodded. "Alright… there's this girl, the bipolar bitch of hell, named Delilah, you've met her, haven't you?" Sam nodded. "Yeah, see, she likes to torment everybody of a lower social status but Casey's always been her favorite… probably because he's had a crush on her since he was, like, _thirteen_… really he's the school wuss, school punching bag, whatever you wanna call it, but she started it and now pretty much everybody who's anybody is in on it…

"It's like this plan," Stokely said as they turned the corner. "Or a pact or an agreement or something, I dunno… but they're all set on making sure that he never has any friends so that no one can get in their way, so he'll never stand up for himself or fight back. They trade you popularity to forget him or betray him and if you don't accept the bill they make your life a living hell until you do… they've done it ever since high school _started_. There have been lots of people," Stokely looked at Sam, catching her off guard as she said, "People like you… people who say they want to help and say they want to be his friend but when it all comes down to it; they _always_ trash him, too…

"I saw you talking with Delilah that day," Stokely looked a head again. "Casey saw you, too… he thinks she's already gotten to you; that this is all one big set up she's made for him to give everyone a good long laugh at his expense…"

Sam looked down at her feet. She remembered… Tina and Delilah, telling her about that position on the cheerleading squad, Tina acting dumb and nervous while Delilah was so careful and put together… that wasn't an opportunity; that was an _offer_. That was something they were offering her to trade for her friendship towards Casey.

"I get it now," Sam whispered. "I think I know what to do," she looked back up at the goth girl to her left. "Thank you, Stokely, I wont forget this!"

"Don't go all freak show on me," Stokely scoffed. "It's disgusting…"

Sam smiled. "Just… thanks."

"Don't sweat it…"

_Friday –_ Casey sat alone at a table in the courtyard at lunchtime. He didn't feel like walking; not today… the air was warm and balmy and the sun was high in the sky but a decent amount of overcast fell over it on and off, giving off an odd gray surreal light, he couldn't really describe.

He heard the lupine noise of girls giggling, for once not at him, as he raised his camera and toyed with the zoom and focus, preparing to snap a shot of the sun through the twisted and tangled branches of the old trees. The shutter clicked and he heard someone sit down beside him. He lowered the camera, hesitantly, and looked to his right.

It was Sam. Her hair was up and clipped to the back of her head in a long jaw clip, with little disobedient pieces hanging around her chin. She wore a plain black choker, too.

He sighed, his right hand reaching for his lunch while his left helped him to stand up, but her left hand clamped down around his right's wrist. The grasp was strong, but not painful… and urgent. He jerked his head back up and looked at her with wide, surprised, and slightly baffled, blue eyes.

"_Sit down,_" she said, very slowly, but not demanding at all… infact, he could have detected a little hint of pleading behind it, if he wasn't mistaken. Her eyes were large and imploring, and gave away the clarity that she really had no idea how he was going to react at all… just hope… a fool's hope… but he did.

He didn't say anything at all, and she let her hand remain around his wrist, but loosened the grip. "Look," she began in a soft voice. "I'm sorry about what happened before. I know what happened now… _someone_ told me, okay? They told me all about what happened to you… _before_… and they told me… about Delilah, and–"

"–What about me?" interrupted a voice to Sam's right. Casey looked up and Sam turned her head to see the brunette beauty that had slid in beside Sam, resting her back against the table, legs crossed on the outside, head turned to her right to look at Sam. "You know what? Forget it. Let's talk about _you_, Samantha–"

"–Sam–"

"–Samantha's better. _OH!_ Or how about Sammy? That's just _too_ cute!"

"Exactly…"

"_Anyway!_" Delilah sang, then she leaned in, putting an arm around Sam's shoulders, and began to speak in a low tone as they should actually want to _spare_ Casey's feelings. "You really shouldn't be seen with 'people like him', 'they' can damage your public image, and you're just getting started here at Harrington; you don't want to make the wrong impression… and we can't have apossible cheerleader _associating_ with 'those people', can we? Stick with me, Sammy, and I'll keep you safe…"

There was a long pause between the three, and Casey watched on pins and needles, eyes flickering back and forth between the two girls. Finally, Sam spoke:

"… Really?" she purred in a low, even tone. "Well, first of all, it's _Sam_. It always has been Sam; it always will be Sam, and if you ever call me 'Sammy' again… let's just say you wont be saying much of anything after that… Secondly, I'd like to thank you for your _ever_ so generous offer carefully laced with bullshit… but I know all about your little game and I'm not buying it… plus I'd rather chew my own throat out then be a cheerleader… Thirdly, so far the only person my being seen with that has damaged my image to anyone was _you_, and I really can't have that, now, can I? You said it yourself; don't wanna make the wrong impression… plus, I like my friends at least _decent_ on the humane scale and I'd much rather be scoffed at by brain dead shit heads like you, then be one of you… Anything else?"

Sam looked to both her left and her right… there were shocked expressions all around. Delilah; shocked that she'd turn down a chance to be pretty and popular for a loser like Casey, and Casey for… well… the same reason, really.

"Well if that's everything," Sam said, closing Delilah's mouth with one finger and a wicked smirk, then standing up, her hand leaving Casey's wrist for the first time since she'd grasped it. She stepped around the bench and nudged his arm. "C'mon, Case…"

Casey looked up at her and blinked several times before shaking his head and rejoining reality. He stood up and stumbled over the bench, grabbing his lunch as she had already grabbed hers. They turned and began to walk away, but didn't make it much more then ten feet before Delilah bounced back…

"Sam," Delilah called, and the girl in question turned half away around, slowing her pace by quit a bit, and Casey slowed to the same speed, peaking over his shoulder hesitantly at Delilah. "I'm giving you one more chance but it's your last one; _don't walk__ away like this!_"

"Stop me," Sam called back, smiled devilishly, and gave her a curt little wave, before turning back around and walking away with Casey without looking back ever again.


	3. Ocean Avenue

-- Don't own. Note the series of random commercials in this chapter… not made up. I kid you not. It happened to me, once, one night, like, a year ago.--

_There's a place off __Ocean Avenue__  
Where I used to sit and talk with you  
We were both 16 and it felt so right  
Sleeping all day  
Staying up all night…  
_– from Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard

_Sunday – _The afternoon was cold and gray, and the rain fell rapidly in fat droplets, as it had been doing all morning… everything was slick and wet, and Sam hadn't seen a person for blocks…

She was out, taking a walk down the sidewalk. The wet conditions offered solitude, and safety as just a rainstorm with no thunder or lightning. Her black and red "CANADA" sweater and jeans were already wet and clingy, but that didn't bother her much… she had her hands in the front stomach pockets of her jacket and her head up. The steady pitter-patter soothed her thoughts, making them easy to make out.

But her peace and serenity were disturbed when she saw someone else… first a shadow standing under a tree to her left off of the road, quickly recognized as a person… Who the hell else would be out in this whether? She frowned, lowering her head, and quickened her pace; wanting to get by whoever it was and back to her thoughts… until she was close enough to see.

He didn't see her, but she saw him. He was too busy with his camera, taking pictures in the rain. She almost laughed… that was _so_ like him, she should have known better! She turned off the sidewalk and onto the grass, and walked up to him, stepping under the little shelter the tree offered.

"Hey," she said and his head shot up to look at her, blue eyes wide and alert. They softened when he realized it was only her, and offered a small smile. "What's doin', Case?"

"Photography," he held up his camera as if it were evidence, and she almost laughed again, but bit it back so he wouldn't get the wrong idea and think she was laughing at him scornfully or something… He was dripping wet from head to toe but, believe it or not, his camera barely had a drop of water on it… another thing that encouraged the giggles.

"Yeah," she sighed when she was sure she wasn't going to laugh anymore. "It is pretty out here today, with no one around… it's almost like in _The Twilight Zone_… you know, those episodes where you're the only person left alive… except not so panicky."

He nodded and looked back down at his camera, tapping it with the tips of his fingers shyly. They stood in silence under the tree for a moment, getting hit with a lot less rain then they would if they weren't, until Casey finally mustered up the courage he need before looking back up.

"Sam, would you do me a favor?" he asked quickly.

She looked back at him, surprised. "Yeah… sure, what do you need?"

"Would you, um," he shifted his weight uncomfortably, finding it difficult to actually _use_ that courage. "Model… for me?"

"Model?" Now she did laughed, a little. "You sure you want me to do that?"

He nodded shyly. "If y-you wouldn't mind, I mean…" his voice trailed off.

"Okay," she smiled, and he looked up, surprised that she'd said yes. "Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it…"

He nodded and smiled. "Alright, sit over there," he gestured to his right, where she saw a little swing hanging from the tree, which was basically two pieces of rope holding up a plank of wood. She shrugged it off and did as she was told.

"Now what?"

"Pose," he told her, preparing his camera for another shot.

Sam paused, unsure of what to do, but began moving anyway. She grasped the ropes, one in either hand, like a child… she twitched a little in hesitation, but decided to turn her head to the side in a 3/4 profile view and tip her chin up to look at the sky with her eyes, trying to portray childish innocence with no expression on her face.

"Ready," she told Casey.

"Perfect," he said, and raised the camera to his eyes… she heard the shutter click and caught of glimpse of the cough of light it expelled. She remained still for a moment, until Casey told her that it was okay, they were done, and she could move again.

She stood up off the swing, walked back over to him, and looked over his shoulder at the camera… she had no idea how it worked, but that didn't mean she couldn't pretend she did.

"… You should go back inside," she said after a long moment. He looked up at her again, and she carefully brushed wet curls back out of his eyes. "Before you catch your death of cold."

"What about you?" he asked, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Tell you what," she began to bargain in a teasing tone. "I'll go on inside with you, how does that sound?"

"Okay," he smiled. "My house is just over there," he pointed, then began to walk in that direction and gestured for her to follow.

"… No, no, I'm telling you," Sam argued. "Ballerina's are tough shit, Casey… I mean, just think about it this way: they've got all that leg strength from all the dancing they do, and those slipper have wood in the toes… just think what that might do if they kicked someone in the nuts."

Casey burst into high-pitch laughter and Sam couldn't help but smile herself. She liked to see him laughing a whole lot more then she liked to see him the way he usually was… quiet, shy, withdrawn, hurt mentally, hurt psychically, and God only knows what else.

"You have a point," Casey said when he had finished laughing, still grinning like a fool.

Time had gone by… when Sam first got in the Connors' house Casey took her coat, changed his clothes, and then threw the whole bundle in the dryer. She'd decided to stay until it was done, which was supposed to be about forty-five minutes, but the buzzer had rang a long, long time ago… they'd completely forgotten.

It was already pretty dark outside. They were sitting on the couch, Sam in the shirt she'd worn under the jacket (a plain black tank top), and had at some time run into a ballet show… thus beginning the whole conversation… but now the credits ended, and a commercial began to role.

"_Wall Greens: get in, out, and on with life…_" said the TV.

"Oh, yes, lets!" Sam quipped and began to flip channels.

"_… To fit a woman's own unique WWF Friday night ITT Technical Institute where Microsoft stands in awe of you and your natural breast enhancement but –if– the Weavers' had berried their step-daughter in Butterball turkey_…"

Sam stopped. "Casey?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you just hear what I heard?"

"No, what?"

She repeated what the series of random channels had said, and as soon as she had finished there was a very short pause before they both burst out laughing… but the laughter was short live, because after only a few minutes saw the clock on top of the television set.

"_Oh shit!_" she jumped up and hurried towards the back of the house where the dryer was. Casey followed.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked, knitting his eyebrows with concern.

"It's after seven o'clock!" she declared, stepping in front of the washer and dryer, yanking the door open, and pulling out her jacket. "I have to go! Sunday night is the only night when my parents are actually home and we all have dinner together and they're already going to kick my ass for missing it."

"Oh," Casey said quietly, unsure of what else to say, as he watched her swing on her jacket. She turned around to face him.

"Thanks for letting me hang out and stuff," she said with a smile. "See you tomorrow at school, okay?"

"Okay," he watched her step past him and into the living room again… he watched her until her hand was about to wrap around the knob to the front door.

"Wait!" he called, and she stopped, and then turned around slowly. He jogged up to her and stopped before her. She blinked repeatedly and arched brow lightly; a little uncomfortably… his face was just inches away from her own. "I just wanted to… thank you for… modeling for me and… well… _everything_." He shrugged a little and looked down.

"Casey," she said softly, and use one finger to raise his chin up again. He looked up and into her eyes and (with her being only about one inch shorter then him and all) it was a pretty level stare. "Don't thank me, okay? I _want_ to help you. I wouldn't be helping you if I didn't want to… it may seem to the untrained eye like a burden, but in return for carrying it I get to be friends with someone so wicked, that most people never, ever get to see… it's well worth it, Casey, trust me."

She smiled at him, and he couldn't help smiling back, feeling a warm feeling spread in his chest… a feeling of friendship, something he rarely ever felt, something he thought he _couldn't_ feel.

"Just… thanks, Sam." He said, moving her hand away from his chin.

She nodded, said "Goodbye," and then turned, opened the door, and stepped out into the rain that had turned into a light trickle about the darkness, catching the glow from the streetlight and looking like a million little specks of gold.


	4. Red Hot Moon

_She was never caught up, like the rest of the rats in a maze  
"Check me out" she said, "I'm in a concrete jungle,  
I'm an individual and you're stuck in my waste"  
Oh hell no, she knows what the truth is, because she said so  
She knows who her friends are so fuck you, don't get no closer,  
It'll only make her run far away…_  
– from Red Hot Moon by Rancid

_Monday – _The yellow bus pulled up in front of the large stone school, and students began to pile out almost as soon as the door opened. Somewhere in this line of yawning, slumping, _ever-so-eager_ teenagers; Casey stepped off the bus, followed close behind by Sam, who slipped beside him as soon as their was enough room to do so, and fell into step.

They'd already formed their own little pack, a silent understanding, just that quickly, that bound them together, two outcast united against everyone else… though, still, Casey did not feel completely comfortable with this…

There was still that stab of doubt, of fear, pecking upward from underneath his flesh. It was a feeling, a mistrust, a coldness built by years and years or torment and betrayal, that he could not escape even if he tried and, in all honesty, he didn't even really know _how_ to try.

The two walked at a steady pace down the cement path, and Casey did his morningly ritual of staring dreamily at Delilah as she stood at the head of her little circle of cheerleader friends and they discussed what they were going to do at practice or at the next game or something dumb like that as they did _ever_ morning.

Sam took a hesitant peak, thinking she shouldn't, at the head cheerleader… and couldn't help but shift uncomfortably at how ungodly beautiful Delilah looked, even in something as simple as a lilac-colored sundress… and by the time her eyes trained back up, she saw the guy prepare to do it but had no time to stop him before the deed was already done.

A chubby guy with a greasy black mop for hair (whom we'll call Peter) raised his arm while Casey wasn't looking and snapped it back to elbow him straight in the nose. Casey stumbled back, tripped, and fell on his backside.

Sam glared and brought her arm back, slugging Pete so hard in the side of the face one could hear his jaw pop out, and then (lucky for both of them, actually) pop back in, as he stumbled and fell to the ground.

When Sam turned back, Casey had already hoisted himself up to a sitting position and was dabbing his nose with the back of his hand to check if he was bleeding. She crouched down beside him.

"You okay?" she whispered. Casey nodded while bringing his hand away from his face and looking at it. He wasn't bleeding… this time. Sam nodded and helped him to stand up.

Peter began to shout profanities at her as soon as they began to walk away, which she promptly ignored and carried on. They only made it about a dozen or two steps before they saw Stokely trudging over the grass towards the school. Sam smiled at her, and waved.

Stokely stopped walking for a minutes, as did Casey and Sam. "… Did you do that?" she asked, gesturing towards Peter with her eyes. Sam nodded. "Oh… nice job." She started walking again.

Sam turned to Casey, shrugged, and he smiled, and they began walking again, Sam resting a friendly hand on Casey's shoulder… and the farther they went; the more Casey felt comfortable with Sam… how odd… but it was never long before you run into someone on Harrington's campus.

"Hey!" A guy they both recognized from English 101 called, waving his arm in the air to grasp their attention. They both slowed to a stop. "Why don't you two get a room?"

"I know that a gesture like that may seem very sexual to _you_, Gregory," Sam began. "But, to a normal human being who can actual _get laid_; it's really nothing."

She followed that up with a small smile and stretched her arm around Casey's shoulders, giving him a nudge to tell him it was time to go now. Gregory just stood there, arms out at his sides, with his mouth opened and an offended look on his face, before he finally managed to say anything at all, which ended up being: "It's _Greg_…"

Casey began to expel a high-pitch giggle put clamped a hand over his mouth as though he believed he shouldn't or perhaps they'd hurt him if he did or something. Sam gave him a smile that was just short of a chuckle. She dropped her arm off of Casey's shoulders as they reached the front steps and began to climb them.

Sam gave the door a pull but nothing happened. She tried again but still it didn't budge so she tried the other door… same thing.

"It's not open yet," Casey observed quietly.

"We're early?" Sam gasped. "That's a first!"

But it was of no matter. She swung down and sat on the stone boarder on the left side of the stairs, and Casey sat on the steps, just one up from beside her so that he'd be on a closer level, and they began to chat and laugh about nothing in particular… but neither noticed the pair of steely eyes, watching from afar…

Tye was the possessor of those eyes, standing with his back against a tree's body, hands jammed in his pockets, stray pieces of slick hair hanging down his forehead… he'd be the perfect image of a 50's bad boy if his hair was dark and he traded in his school jacket for a black biker one.

He grimaced as he watched them, two scraggly little _freaks_; they made a perfect couple if you could use the word perfect in the same setting as them. They disgusted him! Especially that girl, Sam… he'd actually thought she was _cute_ at one point in time… that was before he discovered who she really was. He'd tried to warn Delilah but she wouldn't listen… she knew now.

Jesus, Sam could have had _everything!_ Popularity, a place with The In Crowd, a spot on the cheerleading squad, friends like Delilah and Tina, _everything!_ But no; she turned it _all_ down… and if that wasn't enough to make her a total sewer mutant; it was that she'd turned it down for _Casey Connor_… for the school wuss, the school loser, the school punching bag… and now she wouldn't let anybody in on him… not a punch, not a poling, not even an insult which he _obviously_ deserved.

_What a fucking whore_, Tye snarled and felt the urge to spit on the ground for there was a foul taste in his mouth, the taste of his disgust and hatred, pure and white and pumping through his veins, taking over his blood's job.

And that wasn't even the worst of all… it was what she'd done to _him_ that was the worst. She'd _hurt_ him; she'd _embarrassed_ him, in _public!_ A pretty little girl like that turned him into a violated throbbing nerve mass right in front of the school where _anyone_ could watch, and he knew _everyone_ saw… and if they didn't see; they knew anyway. They just _knew_.

… After all these things; it was obvious that she deserved what was coming to her. It wasn't his fault, no; he wasn't doing anything wrong… he was just making sure she paid the price for her actions. It was Newton's Law, right? "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction", even he could have told you that…

Yes, she would took a fall… and if this fall worked out any way _he_ had it planned she would not only take a fall but she could crash and burn, too.

The bell signaling the end of third period sounded. Students immediately began to stand up and put themselves back together and leave the room for their lockers and/or fourth period classes.

Sam stood up, but merely moments after she began to gather her things Mrs. Olson's voice brought her attention back to the head of the class.

"Not you," the teacher announced smoothly above the muttered voices and thumping shoes and other noises of the students leaving. She had the fingers of her right hand pointing to three different students… one of which was Sam.

Casey quickly finished picking up his things and walked around to Sam. He gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off. "Go on, Casey, you don't wanna be late. I'll catch up with you later…"

He frowned, but nodded and did so anyway, slowly leaving the class with the rest of the students. When everyone had left and things were finally quiet, the three students that had been asked to stay were gestured by Mrs. Olson to come up to her desk.

Sam looked at the other two students… the first one was a tall girl, about 5'11", with spiky strawberry hair and hazel eyes… the second was a guy with short, curly, dark auburn hair and brown eyes, and it was clear to see by the way he walked and carried himself and just about everything else that he was a jock.

She rested her hands, in loose fists, palm side down on the desk and turned her vision from her fellow students to her teachers.

"Now, you were absent for the test I gave two weeks ago," Mrs. Olson opened. "I understand Ms. Warren because she is new here but I really need that test from all three of you… considering there is not a game this weekend," she shot a look at the curly-haired jock. "Which is why I could not reassign it to you _last_ weekend; I was hoping that you could all stay after school Friday and take it then… anyone apposed?"

"Nope," the red-haired girl muttered.

"No, Ms. Olson," said the curly-haired jock.

"Righy-o, Mrs. O," Sam chirped.

"Good," the teacher nodded. "Hurry up now and get to your next classes, then… see you all tomorrow."

The teenagers shrugged and headed for the door. The blonde punk reached it first and flew into the halls unpleasantly… the curly-haired jock reached it next, but stopped and held it open for Sam.

_A gentleman jock_, she thought sarcastically; _He's an oxymoron… and here I was, thinking he was just a normal moron_. _How silly of me…_

"Hey," he said, slipping through the door after her.

"Hello, _Sparky_."

"I'm Stan **­­**Rosado…" He waited. She said nothing. "… So what's your name?"

"Like you don't already know," she said, a thin line of hostility below her voice.

"No," he said, walking in step with her down the hall. "I don't…"

"Sure you don't, Sparky," she wrinkled her nose at him and gave him an overly sweet smile, before turning a corner sharply.

"My name's Stan," he repeated, following her around this corner, even though her pace had quickened quite a bit.

"I like Sparky better."

"Fine," he began in a bargaining tone. "Tell me you're name, and I'll let you call me Sparky."

"And how would you stop me?"

"I have my ways…"

She stopped and looked at him, raising one brow and lowering the other. "… Is that a _threat_, Sparky?"

"No," he shrugged a little. She rolled her eyes and began walking again. He stumbled, suddenly, to fall into pace with her again. "Would you just tell me your name, please?"

"Why?"

"Because I wanna know."

"Beg."

"Just tell me!" he was losing patience, now.

She looked at him again, and seemed to ponder for a minute, before a smirk returned to her face and her eyes fell forward again. "Alright… I'll tell you, just for the fun of it…"

He waited, then gesture impatiently.

"Sam," she held her chin up.

"Oh, come on! I gave you a full name."

"Don't push it, Sparky," but, after a short pause, she told him anyway. "Samantha Warren, alright, now will you leave me alone?"

"I just found out your name and now you want me to leave you alone?"

"Damn straight."

"Hey, come on," he grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. She shot him a deadly look and clenched the hand of that arm into a fist. "You're new here and I just want to get to know you, alright? It's not gonna _kill_ you…"

"No," she purred. "But it will hurt me, because it will hurt my friend. You're a jock; it's as plain to the eyes as night and day, and all you jocks are the same. You're popular; there for you're in on Delilah's disgusting little game."

"What are you talkin' about?"

Sam shook her head, scoffed, jerked her arm free, and began to walk at the same speed down the hall, swaying her hips and arms dangerously.

"Hey, wait!" Stan called, jogging back up to her. "Would you just listen to me? What did I ever do to you? Or this friend of yours? I'm a good guy, okay, I don't just go around pounding random people in to dust."

Sam stopped for a moment… that wasn't a _total_ lie. She'd never seen Stan hurt Casey before… and Casey had never once said a word about Stan… of course, he hadn't told Sam much at all about anything… it was all hidden deep inside him, behind a thick, mottled curtain, pieced together and put up for a shield around his fragile heart.

… Maybe Stan was telling the truth…

"C'mon," he pleaded, standing in front of her now, imploring her with his puppy dog eyes. "Please?"

"… Okay…" she whispered reluctantly, feeling totally unsure about what she was doing but doing it anyway.

"Friends?" He smiled.

"We'll see, Sparky," she said, unable to just up and agree with that.

He smiled wider, a charming smile. "Well then I'll see you later," he said, and then slipped around her, leaving her standing there in the empty hall, as the final bell signaling the beginning of fourth period rang out through the halls at piercing volume.

Stan, one of the last few people in the locker rooms, twisted the combination to his lock after practice… water still dripped from his shower-fresh hair onto the tower around his shoulders. He gave it another quick rub through before discarding the towel, pulling out his clothes, and then changing back. He was about to put on his shirt when he heard the voice…

"Hey, Stan," he turned around to see Gabe, his best friend, already dressed, walking towards him with one of Gabe's good friends, though not so much one of his, Tye.

"Gabe," he nodded, and then threw his shirt up over his head.

"I need to ask you for a favor…"

"Yeah, man?"

"See, Tyler, here," Gabe nudged Tye in a buddy-like manner. "He's got this problem, you see, that he wants to take care of… but he needs a crew. I'm already in on it; but we need another person."

"Well, what's the problem?" Stan asked, finally finished with his shirt, he turned to pull his bag out of the locker. "And what do you need me for?"

"–But not _that_ kind of girl," Tye interrupted.

Gabe nodded. "She's a real mutant… beatin' up the football players, dissin' the cheerleaders, everything from here to the moon."

Tye nodded. "We need you to help us… discourage her."

"How so?" Stan asked, shutting his locker and turning skeptical eyes on his friends.

"Can't tell you," Tye said. "Gotta know if you're in first."

"Please, man?" Gabe pleaded. "She's fuckin' horrible!"

"… Alright," Stan said, and then nodded. "Alright, I'm in…"

"Aw, I knew I could count on you!" Gabe cried with glee, giving Stan a manly hug. Stan smiled, and when they were done he looked back up at Tye.

"So who is this bitch?" he asked, saying the curse word with feeling.

"Sam Warren," Tye spat, and the smile on Stan's face almost instantly fell to a frown.

"… Sam?" he squeaked.

"Yeah," Gabe nodded. "… You know 'er?"

"Yeah… I-I met her today."

"Scary ass shit, huh?" Tye scoffed.

"Not really," Stan said softly. "I mean… are you sure it's her? She seemed so… I mean, she was a little bit hostile, but… she was _nice_, somehow… like…"

"_She's a terror_," Gabe said slowly.

"A freakin' beast!" Tye agreed. "She must have been just suckin' up to you or some shit… probably she wants to suck a little somethin' else."

Both Gabe and Tye laughed and smacked high fives, but Stan remained standing and frowning in disbelief.

"Guys?" they looked back at Stan. "I mean, are you sure? Are you really sure she did all this shit?"

"Hey, man," Gabe nudged Tye's chest again. "My brother over here's fallen victim to her crazy ass _personally!_"

Tye nodded to confirm this, giving Stan a solemn face. "Look, man, we need you…"

"Are you in?" Gabe asked, seriously. "Are you still in?"

"I-I guess," Stan looked down. "If she's really that… bad."

"Worse!" Tye cried.

Gabe laughed and smacked Tye another high five. "See, man, I told you he was down!"

"Yeah, you were right," Tye smiled and nodded. "We're on… so here's the deal…"


	5. Inside Out

_So callous where my mind stays  
But it's not my state of mind  
I'm not as ugly sad as you  
Or am I origami  
Folded up and just pretend  
Demented as the motives in your head  
_– from Inside Outby Eve 6

_Tuesday – _Gym was the _worst… thing… ever_. At least in Sam's opinion, it was, anyway… assigned outfits forcing students into school spirit, psychical activity numbing the brain and making the limbs ache, perfect cheerleaders and sporty girls always proving just how much better then you they are and then making fun of you about it, fiercely lesbian coach watching your ass for an hour (as if there weren't enough guys on campus to do that), and just all around _good times_… well, at least it was the last period of her day.

Sam stumbled into the girls' locker room, oddly enough being the last one in there… Infact; by the time she reached her locker in the back of the room only about three or four other girls were left…

Now, most of the students that had Gym with her were, oddly enough, popular… she figured it was probably some sort of cruel and unusual punishment towards her and Stokely for being weirdos… no matter, right? It didn't even occur to her then… the other girls leaving so quickly, whispering and giggling rather then their usual _shouting_ and giggling, none of it occurred to her at that moment; though she'd regret it later.

She turned her head as she finished spinning the combination on her lock for her first attempt of the day, to see Stokely leave… she was all alone now… but she didn't think about it; she just wanted to get out of the moronic uniform the school made them ware during Gym… gray school T-shirts and black short shorts.

She gave the body of the lock a sharp tug; but it didn't budge. _Damnit_ It was going to be a pain again today… it got stuck almost every single day, and usually took a number of times to get open. She gave it another spin and another pull, but still nothing. Cursing under hr breath she gave it another spin, but jumped and sent it flying off in the wrong direction as she heard a noise behind her.

She saw a blob of shadows on the wall, and whatever made the shadows was coming closer, passing by rows and rows of crimson lockers… and before long the shadows took shape, and their possessors appeared, three jocks… she quickly identified them as Gabe Santora, Tye Malloy, and Sparky…

She narrowed her eyes and kept them trained on Tye and Gabe… both of them were horrible to Casey, both aiming to make his life a living hell, but only one of which had fallen victim to her so far… though she'd heard about Gabe through Casey… very little, though. Just that he was not a nice guy… but what was Stan doing with them?

"Hello Sparky," she said calmly, and leaned against her locker, crossing her arms over her chest. She regarded the other two with only a cold stare. "You know, you're not supposed to be in here…"

"Oh, we got our place," said Tye. "Don't you worry…"

"Think of it as a pass," Gabe smirked as if he'd said something totally witty.

"I'm sure," Sam rolled her eyes.

"Good," said Tye. He was now standing a step in front of the lockers on the opposite side of hers. Gabe stood right next to those lockers and Stan stood next to him, positioned so that she could see each of them at the same time.

"… Look, this has been fun, but–" she was turning around to go tell Ms. Cecelia, who was still out in the Gym, when Tye grabbed her wrist, whirled her around by it, and smacked her back against her own wall of lockers. "Tye, what the _fuck_ are you doing!" her tone grew dangerous now.

He let go of her wrist but stood his ground, and she jerked it back to her side. "Pulling a thorn out of my side," his voice was full of malice but his eyes were full of pleasure… and she didn't know what had happened but he had punched her in the stomach, causing the air to escape her lungs and pain to envelope that area. She leaned down to clutch it and he slammed his elbow into her back.

She fell to her knees, but he kicked her in the stomach again… then someone kicked her in the eye, which was, lucky for her, closed at the time… and she slumped to the ground on her side, just trying to protect her face with her hands and her stomach with her knees from the blows that were now coming one after the other in a one-sided melee, really unable to do much of either…

Casey shifted the strap of his bag from one shoulder to the other; waiting uncomfortably by the steps for Sam… he had the oddest feeling, the most unsettling feelings, that something was wrong, in the very pit of his belly.

He looked at his wristwatch. The bus would be here at any minutes; _where was she?_ He argued within himself for a moment before he decided he was going to go look for her… something wasn't right, he just knew it. He didn't know how he knew it but he did. He turned to head back inside the building but saw Stokely exiting at that very moment… she had the same last period class with Sam!

"Stokely," he stopped her, jogging up the stairs to where she stood at the door. "What took you so long?"

"I stopped to get a book from the library," Stokely arched a brow. "Not that it's any of your goddamned business…"

"Where's Sam?"

"Locker room, last I saw her…" Stokely looked to her side as some jock shouted an insulting and perverted comment at her. She flipped him off and then looked back at Casey as though nothing had happened. "… Why? You haven't seen her?"

Casey shook his head. "I'm gonna go look for her…"

"Whatever," muttered Stokely, and she began walking again heading down the path in front of the school.

Casey sighed and went back inside the building, deciding the check the Gym first, because that was the last place she'd been seen, and that was where detectives always looked, so why not him?

It took him a minutes to get there because he almost ran into Tye and Gabe on the way; but Casey, eventually, found the Gym was empty, save for Ms. Cecelia, who said the same thing… locker room last she saw.

He went over and waited by the door for a minute, but no one came out, and he realized the bus was probably right outside at that very moment, so he made the rash (for him, anyway) decision to actually _enter_ the girls' locker room… besides… something could be seriously wrong!

He opened the door, slowly, hesitantly… "Sam?" he called through the amount he'd opened, which was just about enough for him to stick his head through. "Sam?"

He heard a slight noise only about three rows of lockers a head of him… what was that? "Sam?" he called again, hopefully. There was a soft noise, even quieter then before, but still, a noise… a noise responding to her name.

He took a deep breath, not really wanting to do this, feeling that it was wrong, somehow, but doing it anyway, he opened the door fully and began to step inside, but halted suddenly and decided he'd better give a warning first. "I'm coming in…"

No answer. He took another step inside… then another, and closed the door behind him. The florescent lights were dim in here, but it wasn't that bad… cleaner then the guys' locker room… but still, much of the same… and they make it sound so much more important, too…

"Sam?" he called again… another small noise, like something softly colliding with one of the metal lockers. He stepped in it's direction, coming past the first row of lockers… the second… he was on the bend of the third, now. "Sam?" another soft _clump_… it was right on the other side of these lockers, now, seeming the sound of something soft (maybe plastic?) touching against the metal of the fourth row of lockers.

He swallowed hard and began to creep around the last row, making a little bit of noise so that who ever was there could hear him… he crept around, and forced his eyes to peer at the front of the fourth row of lockers… and gasped.

There, lying on the ground, before the fourth row of lockers, both legs bent at the knees but not for the same amount, hair covering her face, arms crossed in an X over her stomach and chest, was the crumbled body, he immediately recognized.

"_Sam!_" he cried, shock and fear filling his senses. He rushed forward and dropped to his knees in front of her. At first he realized he didn't know what to do, but quickly reacted by doing anything that popped into his head, and the first thing he thought to do was move the hair out of her face.

He tucked the locks behind her ear and let out a low moan when he saw her face… there was a dark blue bruise, a black eye, forming around her left eyes, the eyes that was not on the side against the ground, and there was a small, long cut around the bottom/outer edge… dark red blood seeping and blurring around the injury… and, he didn't know if it was blood smeared up from her cracked and bloody lips of if her nose was bleeding… and there were dark bluish purple bruises forming on her legs, and when he pried her arms out of their death grip around herself to see, her belly, too… but only a couple on her arms… she was a mess… a beaten and bruised mess.

"… I'd like to go to the nurse now," she whispered, in a soft, hoarse voice, after a while that he had inspected her. He looked back up at her, and in his eyes and his face it was clear to see that he was stunned by the whole situation.

"Of c-course," he stuttered, and began to try and think of a way to help her to her feet without hurting her, and as he did this she proceed in helping herself to her feet, and once she was there he jumped up and wrapped an arm around her waist… she didn't really _need_ the help, but he wanted to give it… he _needed_ to give it.

He slowly brought her through the maze of halls and corners and twists and turns of Harrington High until they found themselves before the door with Nurse Harper's name etched on it.

Nurse Harper shot one glance at the doorway before blurting out, "What it is now, Casey?" then she seemed to realize that it wasn't Casey alone, and turned to look again. "Oh… my…" and she hurried over and took the small frame of the teenage girl from him, leading her deeper into the nurse's office.

"… Put an ice pack on your eye as soon as you get home or it will swell up to the size of a pumpkin," Nurse Harper was advising Sam. She took a step back and sighed. "So… do you know who beat you up?"

Casey opened his mouth to suggest that it was probably Tye and Gabe, seeing as they both hated Sam and he'd seen them walking through the halls, happy about something, shortly before he found her, but Sam quickly cut him off.

"–No," she lied. "I mean, I didn't know them… him…"

Casey looked at Sam, baffled – why did she lie? – and helpless – he knew that if neither one of them told Gabe and Tye would probably get away with it but he also knew that if he told, knowing that Sam didn't want him to, she would be definitely be cross with him… "You ride the bus, right?"

Casey nodded at the same time as Sam. He'd been answering half the questions for her! He just didn't know how he should act… this was all his fault… he knew it was all his fault… he hadn't had a moment to sit down and wallow in it yet, but it was bellow his conscious, poking needles upwards through his skin every once and a while.

"Well the last bus left _a long time ago_," Nurse Harper said as she walked a crossed the room and pulled a large book out of a drawer. "I'll call your parents; they'll have to come and pick you up–"

"No!" Sam blurted out so quickly Nurse Harper jerked around like a gun had gone off. "I mean… don't call them… they're not home, anyway… and they wouldn't want to be bothered at work… it's okay, okay? I can just… walk or something."

"No," Casey said, looking up at Sam with those big blue eyes, wide and concern. "I take the bus, too… my parents can come and pick us both up."

Sam shrugged. "You sure?"

Casey nodded, and Nurse Harper gestured him over towards the phone. He took it, punched in the number, and then waited… "Hi, Dad, it's me," he began suddenly, as was the sudden answering of the phone on the other end. "Yeah… no… no, nothing's happened. Well, not to me, anyway… yes… I know… I need a ride home, okay? And I've got a friend, they needs a ride, too, if you could just come pick us up… Uhuh… I'll explain it all when you get here, okay? Thanks Dad… bye."

Casey hung up the phone and then turned back to the Nurse and Sam. "He's coming…"

"Good," said Nurse Harper. "Casey, go with Sam back to the locker room so she can change back into her clothes before they get here, alright?"

Casey nodded, and walked over to where Sam was seated. She stood up and followed him out of the room, back to where they'd started…

Fifteen minutes later, Casey would find himself on the steps in front of the school, sitting beside Sam. The day was bright with a spotless blue sky but there was a chilly breeze blowing down from the North/West.

He looked to his right at Sam… she looked so small, like a child's doll, with her arms hugging her legs to her body, resting her head with her closed eyes against her knees, long tangles of hair shielding her from the light. She had dressed that day in a baggy-ish, heathered, dark blue, long-sleeved shirt that hung almost, maybe less then, halfway down her hips and had sleeves to her first knuckles with a worn, ash gray short-sleeved top under it… both shirts had wide collars; the gray's just enough to be called decent, the blue's barely on her shoulders… with ripped up jeans and her favored boots. The outfit kind of made her look like a rag doll… at least, he thought so, anyway.

"Hey," he whispered, starring at her worriedly. "You alright?"

She nodded her head a couple times, hard to be sure he could see them, but never looked up.

He paused. "… Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you tell Nurse Harper about Tye?"

"Because I'm not a snitch," she grunted, and said no more.

He sighed and looked back at the small parking lot beside the school, waiting… Soon, his parents' car pulled up into it and his mother _and_ father emerged. Casey stood as they came trotting down the walk, and nudged Sam whispering to her the suggestion of standing, as his parents were only a few yards away.

Sam stood up and brushed her skirt off, but hesitated to look up when she was finished, so instead she watched them with eyes raised and chin lowered … but the Connors' had eyes; they could see anyway… they could see the injuries… and they seemed to startle Mrs. Connor, and (for lack of a better word) repulse Mr. Connor.

"Um, Mom, Dad," Casey drew their attention to him. "T-this is Samantha Warren… Sam, this is my Mom and Dad."

"Hello," Mrs. Connor chirped, smiling and trying to sound cheerful… but she was very translucent… even a total idiot could see right through her.

"Hi," Sam groaned.

"Well," Mr. Connor ended a short period of silence. "Where do you live, Sam?" In a low and quiet voice, she told them the address. Mr. Connor faked a smile and said: "… Well, that's only two blocks away from our house."

Mrs. Connor nodded with another one of her transparent smiles. Casey frowned and attempted to look on the bright side: at least his mother was _trying_ to fake it… but Sam wasn't going to buy it… would she be hurt? He hoped not.

"C-can we go?" we asked quietly, not to be rude.

"Oh, yeah," his father replied quickly. "Sure."

… And, just a few minutes later, they'd all be piled in the car… his parents in the front seat and him and Sam in the back. He couldn't stop shooting glances over at her, looking at her every few minutes, trying to think of something he could say or do.

She had the side of her head rested against the window with her eyes closed, but she wasn't asleep… he knew that feeling… it was a feeling where you don't really understand anything, but you do know that you really, _really_ want a nap… it happens, sometimes, when you get hit in the head… he'd been there before.

A time or two or so, she'd looked back at him with half opened eyes, tired green eyes, and gave him little reassuring smiles, trying to make him think everything was already, that it wasn't his fault, that she'd be fine and everything could be forgotten… but he didn't believe that. He _couldn't_ believe that. This was his fault… this was her taking his fate… taking his fate for him. He'd never wanted that. Of all the things in the world if he could stop one from ever happening ever it would be that someone else should have to go through what he goes through, what was called "his fate".

… And his parents… his parents, up there, thinking they couldn't see or wouldn't notice… exchanging worried glances every few minutes, glances that spoke a secret code of parental guardians… but most kids caught on to that code, knew what they meant… and he knew those secret glances, those codes were worried about him, not about her… a little bit, yes, about how she'd run into having something like that be done to her… but more for him… for what could happen to him? What could happen to him if he hung out with people like that? They had no idea… and there'd be a long talk.

They'd want to talk as soon as they got home. They'd want to know every little thing he knew… and, of course, he could never tell them… but they'd want to know exactly what happened, every detail, and they'd bombard him with questions… and it would only be then that the real horror would sink in. It would only be then that he'd realize what had happened in full, and the guilt and feelings like that would finally come into the pictures… but he wasn't feeling them just yet.

No, he wasn't feeling them now… now none of that mattered; now it was only Sam. Of course, it was there. The guilt and horror and feelings like that were all there, but they were just beyond him, filling his subconscious mind… and when his parents would ask him those questions; it would force past the barrier like water breaking through a dam, flooding the steady stream ahead, and washing through his entire body like a village, filling his sense like drowning the peasants…

But for now, there was only Sam… only her and his feelings for her… only worry and the bond of friendship… even as the car slowed, and his father quietly informed Sam that this was her stop, opening her eyes fully for the first time since Casey had found her on the floor of the girls' locker room… even as she sat up, pushed the door open like a child, pulled her bag back onto one arm, and dragged herself outside of the car.

"Thanks Mr. Connor, thanks Mrs. Connor," and then she looked at him and smiled small. "Thank you Casey… I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay?"

He nodded, and she shut the door… his parents waited and watched her, as did he, until she was safely inside the house, and then there was an aftermath, and his mind felt empty and blank, and they drove the two blocks back to his house in silence… the calm before the storm.

-- I know, I know, I made it sound like their plan was going to be all wicked and mysterious and then it turns out to be just this… but, hey, look at it this way: they're a couple of jocks with a G.P.A of D… how much better do you really think they could do? Exactly. Also, thanks to all my reviewers! You guys are so great! I'm very glad you're enjoying this--


	6. Sunday Morning

-- Another note! I know some of you wanted to read about what Casey's parents were going to say about the last chapter's whole situation, so I'd like to apologize that that will not be appearing… I just couldn't _feel_ it, you know? So sorry Sparrow, Spry Sprite, or anyone else you wanted to read that. I have to go where my mind points me. --

_That may be all I need  
In darkness he is all I see  
Come and rest your bones with me  
Driving slow on Sunday morning  
And I never want to leave…_  
– from Sunday Morning by Maroon 5

_Wednesday – _Stan's eyes scanned the front yard of the school, littered with trees and the three walkways all heading to the front doors. A blanket of gray clouds covered the sky above him, and the air was lukewarm. He looked for that head of dark brown hair; that mildly tanned skin; those brown doe eyes.

He was looking for Delilah, his girlfriend. They were to meet after school so that he could give her a ride home, where he would stay over for a while on a study date… "Study Date" meaning they'd solve three Math problems and then do nothing but make out for two straight hours.

He saw her, leaning against a tree, long golden tanned legs stretching out from under her sexy little mini-skirt crossed at the ankles just above her expensive black shoes. A smile graced her icy pink painted lips as she caught sight of him, uncrossed her legs, and stood up. He jogged over to her, and the second he stopped she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a long, hot, rewarding kiss.

"I thought those were your Estée Lauder lips," he whispered breathlessly after she pulled away.

"Mmm, baby, nevermind that!" she gushed. "If I'd known sooner I never would have put them on…" She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Known about what?" he asked as soon as she was finished.

"About what you did to the Warren bitch!" she practically laughed.

"Who?"

"You know," Delilah waved her hand, eyebrows knitted, as she tried to remember that name. "The-uh… _Samantha! _That Samantha girl… You're my hero, Stan!" another quick peck of a kiss. "… Anyway; she _so_ deserved what she got! I mean, just look at her… total freak mutant. What could possibly possess someone to dick around with the actual _human_ humans, especially for, like, the biggest loser in Ohio history!"

She laughed and leaned in for another kiss. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait!" He stopped her by grabbing her shoulders and held her back. "What did you say?"

"What could possibly possess someone–" Delilah began, not quite sure of what he wanted.

"–No," Stan interrupted her. "That last thing you said… about the biggest loser in Ohio or whatever."

Delilah laughed. "C'mon Stan, you know… Casey Connor." She shook her head, and gave him a total look, like it should be obvious.

"Yeah, what about him?"

"He _is_ the biggest loser in Ohio history…"

"Yeah, but what does he have to do with _Sam?_"

"You mean you don't _know?_" Delilah's eyes grew huge. Stan hesitated, but shook his head nonetheless. "The whole reason she's been going all 'street' on the us is because she's been protecting that little loser… isn't that why you beat her up?"

Stan felt his heart drop into his stomach and burn in the acids. His mouth was opened but he couldn't reply… No, he hadn't know that… Gabe and Tye hadn't told him that… he'd had no idea… they'd just made it sound like she was some crazy freak on a rampage… they never mentioned a reason… they never said anything about Casey… and it hit him, in sickening reality, at that very moment, what he'd done…

He had helped pound a girl into a cowering puddle curled up on a dirty floor soully because she wanted to help… to help a poor, pathetic, little outcast that no one, and I do mean _no one_, was _ever_ nice to.

"Stan?" Delilah said persistently, bringing him back to reality. "Are we gonna go or what because I'm–"

"–I can't," Stan said quickly, interrupting her again. "I mean… I've got to go do something. I've really got to go do something, Delilah. I-I'll be back out, okay? Just wait for me…"

And he began to walk, which quickly turned into a jog, away, leaving Delilah behind, gawking incredulously.

He saw Stokely leaving the school, as he was only a few yards away from the front door. She had last period with Sam! He kicked his pace up a notch and practically grabbed her arm, stopping himself out of thin air, as he reached the bottom of the steps.

"Stokely," he said her name. She glared at him like if he didn't let go of her at that very second she was going to start spitting venom. "Where's Sam? I need to–"

"Haven't you already done enough?" Stokely groaned, rolling her eyes before yanking her arm free of his grasp. He stood in shock for a moment, and if stares could kill she would have been the death of him then, before she walked off.

"Shit," he moaned, but began to jog again, going back inside the school… after only a few corridors; he ran into a teacher… and it was just the right one.

"Excuse me, Ms. Cecelia," he stopped the teaching in the middle of the halls, facing her. She was 32-years-old, very tall, about 6'2", and thin, with a blob of beach blonde curls atop her head, dressed in a loose-hanging maroon sweat suit with yellow trim and a yellow H on her left shoulder. "Do you know where Samantha Warren is?"

"I believe she's still in the Gym," Ms. Cecelia gestured down the hall, as if Stan, being head quarterback and all, didn't know where it was. "I mean I was just in there and she was in there with me, so unless she left in the past two minutes…"

Stan nodded. "Thank you, very much," he began jogging down the hall again, but shot a quick glance over his shoulder to call: "Bye, Ms. Cecelia!"

He stopped at the doors to the Gym… they looked so negative, like they were telling him to go away. He stood there for a long time to catch his breath, and once he was okay again, calm and braced, he pushed open the doors very quietly.

Oddly enough, it looked brighter in the Gym then it was outside… perhaps there was a quick spot of golden sun peaking through the clouds that he was missing, he didn't know. He looked around but quickly spotted her. She was sitting on the bottom bleacher on the side he was on, a crossed the floor from it. Her head hung, with green eyes staring down to something in her lap he quickly identified as a notebook, pale hand clutching a black pen and dragging it along the paper carefully.

Concealer on her face and legs covered all the injuries… as thought it'd never happened… but it had happened… perhaps she thought that if she did that; no one would ever know… but everyone knew. Gabe dated Tina, second most popular girl in the school with a mager reputation for being the gossip queen… he'd probably blabbed to Tina the very same night he did it… and she must have told absolutely _everyone_.

He crept over, though he didn't know why he was being so quiet. He just was. His sneakers were as quiet as mice against the floor, which was really kind of impressive when you consider how much nose they make when they move quickly on a Gym floor. He stopped when they were just two steps apart, and raised his chin to see what was on the paper.

It was a sketch in black pen ink of someone from behind, there back was littered with dozens of knives, blades all under the skin, and there was a second person, a bit of a half profile sort of angle, pulling the knives out one by one and sticking them into their own. There was only two in so far and the third was in the second person's hand…

"That's very morbid–" he whispered. She jumped and slammed it shut, her eyes shot up to him. "–But good…" She jumped to her feet and glared at her, her face taking on a mistrustful look of confusion and the loathing of someone who's been hurt.

"_What the fuck do you want?_" Sam snapped, her voice higher then it usually was, probably because he had startled her.

"I just wanted to talk to you–" he reached out but she jerked back as if expecting him to hit her, her eyes nervously moving back and forth between his hand and his face. He dropped him arm at his side sadly. "Look, I didn't know–"

"Shut up," she interrupted. "And leave."

"Please, listen to me!" He took another step forward and she took another step back. "They didn't tell me, Sam! They didn't tell me about Casey!"

"Sure," she laughed bitterly. "I'm sure, Sparky, really, I am so up for believing you right now!"

"It's the truth!" He defended.

"That's impossible!" She shouted back. "You can't say anything but lies!"

"Sam, it's not like that," he pleaded.

"You know, what ever happened to gentlemen? A gentleman never hits a lady."

"A lady never hits at all…"

"She does if it's in defense."

"Defense of what?"

"Of someone who wasn't even _allowed_ to defend himself!"

"Would you _spare me_ the poetry?" they were shouting back and forth at each other, now. "This isn't about _him!_ It's about you! You know, Sam, it makes me think he's taking advantage of you… taking up all your thoughts and energy 'cause, from what I've heard, you defend him just fine, but you didn't do much defending the other day."

"It was three against one, you creep!" She looked like she was either going to start crying or beating the shit out of something very, very soon. "And don't you _ever_ talk about Casey like that! I _chose_ to help him; I made him a promise! He never asked me to… infact; he asked me a million times _not_ to!"

Stan paused. "… Alright, look, I'm sorry, I went too far there–"

"Save it, Sparky," her voice was low again, just like his. "I'm not buyin' it anymore."

"Well that's good," Stan said calmly. "Because I'm not selling."

She rolled her eyes. "Tell you what, I'll believe that when hell freezes over and all the demons and the big man Satan come up complaining of colds and overrun our hospitals. Fair enough?"

"Please don't do that…"

"W-why not? So that I can just jump out of the blue and say, 'Oh! I've been wrong all along!', dump my best friend, jump into some jock's loving arms, become Delilah's best friend #403, get married at eighteen, be a stay-at-home mother and have twelve kids while my 'husband' has a job that takes him all around the world so that he can fuck other women from every country on the globe?" She wrinkled her nose and shook her head shortly. "Sorry, Sparky, that just ain't me."

"That's not what I want from you, Sam–"

"_Then what is?_" she retched, the effect kicking in and swinging towards the side of crying as two twin tears forced their way from her eyes and ran down her face, even though she was visibly trying to push it the other, more violent, way.

"I just want your friendship," he said calmly. "I know that I did a bad thing, but I _didn't know_… but now I do… and I understand now that it was wrong… and I just want to make it right."

There was a pause between the two, an unblinking stare down, Sam's eyes glassy with tears that wouldn't be shed unless they literally _forced_ their way out… and then she let out one sob before clamping her teeth down on her lip and hanging her head. That was the setting for only a short moment before she raised it again.

"No," she said. "No, Stan… I can't trust you. You're one of them and I know that for a fact… you're the _freaking star quarterback_… and, I-I may not have been here very long, but I am already so sick of all this school's bullshit…"

She shook her head and began to turn away. "_Sam, wait!_" She stopped, and turned around again. He'd only taken one more step forward. "I'm sorry, okay!"

She chuckled morbidly. "Fuck you…"

She turned and began to walk away. He called her name and called her name but she didn't turn back… she was only about a yard or two in front of the door before he reached her. He jogged forward, grabbed her arm, stopping her in mid-walk… and, in a split second decision with no other idea in sight, he did a totally rash and insane thing… he press his lips to hers and kissed her hard.

It lasted a total of about five seconds, before she pressed her hands flat to his shoulders and pushed him off of her so hard it caused even his heavy jock frame to stumble back a few steps.

There was silence… a long pause… where nothing moved… nothing happened… like time stopped… and they both stood there, unmoving besides their breathing, like two figures in a stalemate and any moment could result in death, before Sam finally broke the stand off.

"Don't ever touch me again," she said, loathing in her voice, which was barely above a whisper… before turning on her heels and leaving.

Her pace was a normal walk at first, but it gradually grew to a fast walk, then a jog, and then into a flat out _run_… and she didn't stop running until she burst through the doors of the school, out into the day, just as it started to rain.

Sam threw herself into the seat on the bus beside Casey like she was a doll or something. The rain was just beginning outside the window, escaping the sky in little sprinkles, so she was barely wet… even though it was growing heavier with every passing breath.

Casey gave her a glance, and had to look again… her eyes were as shiny as glass marbles and rimmed with strawberry pink, and there were thin sheen rivets down her cheeks, one on either side, like tear tracks, smudged as if she'd tried to wipe them away before he saw them… but, unfortunately for her, they were in just the right light for him to see them… and a faint shadow of the bruises, as well.

She sank into the seat, with her arms crossed over her chest and her legs crossed at the ankles, closing her glossy eyes for a long time.

"Sam?" he whispered. She blinked her eyes opened and looked at him. "Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

"No," she stated blankly. "Besides being sexually assaulted, nothing…"

Casey's eyes grew wide. "What–who–was it Tye? What did he you do to you, Sam?"

"No–" She sighed, a little frustrated, not knowing what to say. "It's nothing, Casey; just forget it…"

Casey frowned and looked down… there was silence (between them, that is, they were on the bus; dozens of children were screaming one thing or another at _any_ time) for a moment… before he looked back up with his eyes. "If someone hurt you, Sam, you should tell…"

She looked at him, her eyes drier then they were when she first got on. The bus lurched forward and began on its way. She laughed, a little, mostly through her nose, and then rested her head on Casey's shoulder, and second later felt Casey rest the side of his head against the top of hers.

Sam smiled and closed her eyes… everything was and would be just fine, as long as she could stay right there just like that forever for the time being…


	7. Different People

-- Now I'm thinking I'd better explain Stan's behavior in the last chapter, because it appears I've startled a few people. It's a bit of psychology, on my part. You see, I figured, he's star quarter back, right? Which, obviously, makes him popular… which makes me think he probably gets what he wants a lot, _especially_ from chicks… and, if that's true, it stands to reason that, when he's not getting what he wants, he could use "romantic" gestures to turn that around… doesn't it? I don't know, maybe I'm wrong…--

.

_He and she_;_ two different people  
In two different lives  
When you mold the two together you get a  
Spectacular surprise 'cause  
One can teach the other one  
What she doesn't know  
While still the other feels a place inside  
He never knew had room to grow…_  
– from Different People by No Doubt

.

_Thursday – _Casey was different. He was shut up inside himself… guilt was numbing at the edges of his conscious mind, a little stab shooting into it every now and then. Bad things were happening… bad things were happening to Sam… bad things just like the bad things he was always put through… bad things like that were happening to Sam… and it was all his fault.

  The previous afternoon had been the first time since he'd met her that she'd kept something from him, the first time that she hadn't told him when he'd asked… Was it something really terrible? Was it his fault, too? Why wouldn't she _tell_ him?

  Sure, it seemed this had started right after Sam got beat up… but that wasn't it. He'd been fine… well, at first, he was like this… then he was afraid, because her suffering a little piece of his fate lowered her down to his level, even if it was just for a little while, and his level was no place to be… then, it was slightly uplifting. It gave them something to have in common, because (besides that) they were two very different people… and that wasn't bad. It was this new development of secrecy, in whatever form, that disturbed him once again.

  His anxiety and guilt was all consuming, and he stayed that way all day… All day he was totally withdrawn, all day he stayed inside himself, barely picking up a word from any of his classes… and Sam… Sam in almost every period the same as him…

  He remembered Sam, in fifth period, Biology with Mr. Furlong, the only period where they absolutely _had_ to interact because they were lab partners, had pulled him from his thoughts several times so that they could finish the assignment… and in all the other periods of the day, except seventh where they were apart, bringing him from his thoughts to ask him if he was okay at least a dozen times over the course of the day, once or twice teasing him; playing on his paranoia to never fail a test, and at lunch he'd told her he was going for a walk as soon as they'd stepped out the doors and was on his way before she could even say "bye"… and the teachers, themselves, had more then once stopped to remind him to pay attention… and, even, his fourth period teacher had stopped him from leaving and asked if he was alright.

  He lied to them both and told them he was, told them he was just tired; he hadn't slept well the night before… well, at least that wasn't _entirely_ false…

  He was slipping, farther and farther away from her, worried that they'd break her, worried that she was already broken; worried that she would hate him and he'd be left alone again… he didn't want that… if he were to be honest with himself; he'd know that he was actually _terrified_ of it.

  So this was the way… Consciously or unconsciously, he really didn't know, but his mind came up with this as a solution: push her away until she's gone, that way she can't do it to him. It was perfectly simple, perfectly clean, and the long wait before she'd give up and leave would bring the pain in small doses, minimize it over time so that it was easier to take.

  Of course, somewhere, deep inside his heart, he also knew that if he did this, and he pushed her far enough away from him, he would loose her and never be able to find her again… he would loose her forever…

*~*

  Meanwhile, things weren't so great for Sam, either.

  "You okay?" Sam whispered, after nudging Casey's arm, sometime in fourth period. He shook his head and stuttered out some answer that he was fine, before looking back up at the teacher… and then his eyes slowly drifted down again.

  Sam frowned and looked back again, pretending to pay attention when, really, she was finding it almost as hard as her friend was to do so… not with all the little things buzzing around her head like flies around food on a picnic table in midsummer.

  Of course, Casey's behavior bothered her. It worried her sick. Naturally, it had to be her fault. Casey's mind had been marred by years and years or betrayal from anyone he let near him, so it only stood to reason that the very act of letting someone inside, even if they really _could_ be trusted, would cause all kinds of problems to him and his psyche. It was like, the equivalent for someone who hadn't been through this, of trying to believe that walking on a bed of needles, all point up, long enough to go right through your foot, wouldn't hurt you.

  As for Stan, she wouldn't let him bother her. She refused to let him bother her. She pushed him completely out of her mind and kept him there… and, since the gym, he hadn't tried to contact her again, either… all for the best, she believed she was sure of it even though her subconscious would have told another story… the story of someone confused and unsure, totally oblivious to who this person really was and what they would do next.

  And then their was her… there is always yourself to bother you. Her own problems; problems inside herself… but problems that, nonetheless, still dealt with the biggest factor in her mind: Casey.

  Casey, her friend, her dearest friend… she had grown attached to him. She'd grown very attached in such a short time. It was strange; she could never recall herself latching onto someone so tightly… especially so quickly… she cared about him a great deal, yes; she felt she would do anything for him and she had no idea why. She just did… and she was certain she did. It filled up all the hollows she'd always felt. It gave her what she always wanted but never quite knew what that was… it made her feel _whole_, feel _needed_, like she wasn't just wasting her time with the usual thing she did just to feel good, or even, sometimes, when good wasn't an option, to not feel at all…

  And now she was scared. She wasn't like Casey, no, she wasn't afraid to of betrayal… first of all; she didn't think it was even possible for Casey to have a single trait required for the act of betrayal, and secondly; when someone screwed her over she dealt with it by giving them a friendly fist in the face and then shut them out of her life from there on out… no, that wasn't what she was afraid of at all…

  She was afraid to lose though. She was afraid to lose him to them, to fail him and have him fade into nothing; a shell, with all hope or emotion of any sort beaten out of him… she couldn't see that happen to him… but still, that wasn't the exact thing she was afraid of… It was more, she was afraid of herself.

  Afraid that something like that could be kept beneath her skin… afraid that she could really give that much of a damn… it was not at all like her, and something in her mind told her that it was bad, told her that it was wrong, that it was unhealthy…

  But even if this was the case or these were the cases or whatever it was; she could see what was happening right now to Casey. He was fading… he was fading into a shadow… and she couldn't let that happen. She had to stop it as soon as possible, and that would be the brunt of what she knew for sure.

.

-- Sorry this chapter was so short and crappy… think of it as an "in-their-head" type of look… I've been terribly busy since I uploaded the previous chapter; last night was the first time I got to just sit down and write and my brain was practically numb… but there'll be more next time, I _promise_. Once again, I'm wicked sorry. Also, I'd like to thank Francesca for pointing out chapter five. I fixed it up so there's no more confusion (I hope). --


	8. Down

_Let's get crazy,  
Talk about our big plans  
Places that you're going  
Places that I haven't been  
Build my walls up  
Concrete castle  
Keep this kingdom free of hassle…_  
– from Down by Something Corporate

_Friday – _Sam stumbled through the lightly populated halls. It wasn't late after the bell had rung but it _was_ Friday afternoon, and the lack of patience students had built up over the school week finally came out on this such a day, for they rushed to the front door like they were being chased by notably hungry lions…

It wouldn't be long before the bus would be there. Sam had already been to her locker, and now she was heading over to Casey's to see if he was still there. She turned the corner and into the corridor where his was, but stopped.

James, a jock with tawny hair in a buzz cut and light brown eyes, was standing in front of Casey, who had his back to the lockers, with two other jock buddies standing behind him… he repeatedly told Casey to "get up" and if he did, he would push him back against the lockers… hard… and if he didn't, he would pull him forwards and then push him back against the lockers… hard… so, not really much of a choice there…

Sam's eyes slipped back and forth along the two walls, where a few scattered students stood at their lockers, merely watching… they disgusted her! Narrow her eyes, she stalked up to Jim, who had just pushed Casey back again and was laughing with his two block head buddies as if it were the funniest thing ever done by man.

She tapped him lightly on the shoulder with the tip of one finger. He turned to look at her, making a slight "Huh?" sound, and she drew back her arm and crashed the balls of her hand upward against his nose.

He stumbled back and grabbed at his face. By the time Sam had her hand back next to her shoulder blood was already pouring out of it and down his chin onto his neck. She smirked, but dropped it quickly, reached out and grabbed Casey by the wrist and gave him a sharp tug to get him started walking, pulling him away from the jocks and the students who had lost interest and returned to their lockers like nothing had ever happened.

Outside, the weather was mixed. The sky had been a solid wall of clouds when the students had shown up at school that morning, but it seemed the farther the day drew on the more the sun came out…

Sam didn't let go of Casey's wrist until they were safely outside. The busses had arrived, and students were just beginning to load onto them. Casey took a step in their direction, expecting Sam to follow, but instead; she stopped him.

"Let's walk," said Sam.

"Why?" Casey questioned.

"Because I want to and I'm a spoiled brat who gets everything she wants," she said it quickly, with a clear air of joking underneath it.

"But–"

"–But what? It's not that far!"

Casey sighed. "Oh alright…"

"Told you," she chirped with a wink, and then the two set off in the direction the bus would soon be following, heading home after another successful week of hell.

"… Did you see Jim's nose, though?" Casey commented. They'd been talking the entire way, and somehow, the subject of today's beat up had worked its way into the conversation. "I've never seen anyone bleed that much like that…"

"Well, that's because it wasn't a normal bloody nose," Sam replied all-knowingly, holding her chin up, arms crossed behind her back. "I _broke_ his nose, dear Casey."

"_You broke his nose?_" Casey gasped, looking at her.

"Yahuh," she nodded. "A friend taught me how to do that when I was twelve… proving that even weak little children can do it… all you gotta do is just slam the balls of her hand," she displayed. "Into somebody's nose and, _poof_, its broken… do it twice and you stick the bone into their brain, killing them within seconds, too."

Casey shook his head and _tsk__, tsked_. "Why do you even know these things? Why do people tell you them?"

"Power lust," she quipped.

"Okay… so… why?"

"Why what? Why'd I break his nose?" Sam asked. Casey nodded. "He's the same kid who hit you in the head with your own camera last week, remember?"

"Oh," Casey muttered, confirming, his fingers sliding up to scarcely touch just above his ear where the lens of the camera had broken the skin.

Sam smirked. "Aw, and the beauty of it all is… I get off with a slap on the wrist for shit like this. Because I do it for you, the school turns a blind eye rather then suspension or even expulsion… guess it's because if you ever told your parents they could sue considering the assaults always take place on campus…" but she stopped talking as Casey stopped in his tracks and looked to his right. "… What?"

"My house," Casey replied, looking back at her and nudging his head in its direction.

"Oh yeah…"

Casey smiled, but fidgeted, unsure of what to do now. He opened his mouth to say whatever goodbye could come to mind, but she spoke first.

"Can I come inside?" she asked. He paused for a moment, caught by surprise. She looked around quickly, then swung her backpack off her shoulders and held it up and said the following as if it were all a very attractive offer, "_We can do homework together…_"

"Well, um, I guess… so…" Casey stuttered. He'd never had a _girl_ over before… of course he didn't see Sam like he saw other girls… then again Sam wasn't like other girls.

"See, I told you," she smirked and bounced up next to him as they walked up to the door. "Spoiled brat who always gets what she wants…"

"Maybe you just know how to pick your friends," Casey shot back and began to undo the lock in the door. That's when Sam noticed his parent's car was gone… but she didn't have time to comment before the door opened and he stepped inside, waiting for her. She followed, and then he shut it behind her.

"So where are your parents?" Sam asked, taking a couple steps as she cast glances lazily around the living room. Everything was off except for, of course, the clock on top of the TV.

"Dad's at work," Casey sighed, almost like he was playing back a recorded message. "Mom's at bridge… they both wont be back until late."

"Oh…"

There was a moment of silence, in which Casey felt awkward but Sam seemed just fine, before he found his voice. "Well, my room is up there, so… follow me."

She looked back at him, and he began to move, shortly followed by her, up the stairs. He led her into his room, where she dropped her coat lazily on the floor, and began to stalk slowly around the room. She looked over his walls, studying the dozens and dozens of pictures pinned to them. Most of which were random, except the corner by his bed, where he kept his _special_ pictures, the pictures of things he really liked about life… Soon, she found her way over there.

She looked at the most obvious cluster first, the cluster of his pictures of Delilah… one a frontal view where she stood holding school books to her chest, another a profile view where she wore a black coat and was applying lip gloss, another where she was standing in her cheerleader uniform, with all the other girls in their too, practicing some little skit, and a few more.

"… You're good," she mused. "You can make a vial slut from the very bowels of hell like Delilah look human and actually _pretty_; you're very good…"

Casey threw his backpack off on the bed, and then stopped to offer her a weak smile, before dropping down before it. He sat there and simply was, watching her with his big blue eyes.

Suddenly, something else caught her eyes. She looked left of Delilah's photos, on the same special wall, and posed her head to look at a cluster of pictures there… they were of her… but not just the one Casey had taken of her that day in the rain, but two others.

One was of the back of her neck, the little bump where the back bone connected with the neck bone, actually… she identified it from the day she'd defended him against Delilah for the first time, because her hair was up and she was warring a black choker, just like she had that day… and the other was from the day before Tye had beaten her up, when they'd been early for school, and sat on the steps. She had started to laugh and held a hand over her mouth, and a gust of wind had came and blown her hair behind her like wild… she remembered him taking that picture, remembered asking him why he took it, remembered the shy answer of "because I wanted to"…

All the photos were in black and white.

She turned back to him and smiled. He was blushing a little, and obviously knew she'd seen his special collections there. She strutted over and sat on the edge of his bed, only a foot or two away from him, her arms propped at her sides, and turned her head to the side to look at him. There was a draw out moment of silence, before Casey ended it.

"… You don't really want to do homework, do you?" he asked her in a very low voice.

"How did you know that?" she quipped, narrowing her eyes, lowering one brow, and smirking.

"Because you left your book bag on the couch downstairs…"

"Oh," her expression flattened again. "That would do it, huh?"

"Then what is it you _do_ want, Sam?"

"To…" she shrugged. "Talk to you, I guess."

"About what?" he pressed, imploring her with his eyes.

She sighed uncomfortably, before shifting her position until she was facing in his direction, one leg, bent at the knee, drawn up on the bed and laid on its side in front of her, the other hanging over the edge. She remained leaning on her left arm, but her right went forward and the fingers wrapped around his hand. "Why did you put a curtain up, Casey?"

"What?" Casey whispered, his eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"You put up a curtain… over your heart… and no one can see past that certain," she paused, searching his face for understanding. There was a faint flicker of it, so she went on. "It's not right to shield your heart like that. You may think it protects you, but it doesn't. It only _hurts _you." Casey looked away, avoiding her and her gray glare, and his eyes grew misty as he retreated back inside himself, yet so far away… she wet her lips before going one, "You can't keep hiding your heart like that, because nothing can get through that curtain… sure, not hatred or betrayal… but not friendship or love, either." She paused again. He still didn't look back. "Do you understand, Casey?"

His eyes closed, and he didn't say anything. Sam waited, but he didn't even move. With a defeated sigh, she let go of his hand as she stood up, and turned to walk away.

"I'm sorry… I'll just leave–"

"–Don't go," his voice was so soft at first she wasn't sure if she'd really heard it at all, or if her mind had just created it… but either way, she stopped dead in her tracks. She hesitated, but turned around, and noticed that she would have forgotten her coat if she'd just left like that, anyway.

"Please stay," he went on. "I'll tell you… Okay? I'll tell you everything… just don't go away… _please?_" His voice was lower on that last word then any other he'd spoken. It won her over immediately. She walked back slowly, and sat down beside him, and he looked at her again, with eyes that were right here and right now, and began to spill.

He told her everything, he let words flow out of his mouth like blood from his veins, he told her all the secrets he'd always kept, all the things he swore he'd never let anyone know, swore he'd take to his grave… and minutes turned into hours but time didn't matter, forgotten, cast away, irrelevant if it ever were otherwise previously… some things shared they would both remember forever and ever, some things would be lost entirely, like sand slipping through finger tips into a breeze, never once returned… but all was shared, until darkness swarmed around them, and took them into its loving arms…

Casey heard the distinct noise of someone clearing their throat… but it sounded muffled, like one would hear things if they were just waking up from sleep and in that place half way inbetween consciousness and unconsciousness… and it was awfully dark, he couldn't see a thing… that's when he realized; he couldn't see because his eyes were closed, he _was_ just waking up!

He opened them and, reluctantly, dragged them over in the direction of the throat cleared, dreading who might be standing there, at the end of his bed… and behold his luck! It was his mother.

Although, the situation didn't really strike him for as bad as it was until he noticed the steady breathing, way too close to be hers, and the warm something he had his arm wrapped around. He then turned his blue eyes beside him, to see Sam's body there.

Her eyelids fluttered, and prepare to open. He panicked and yanked his arm off of her, too suddenly, unable to make it look casual so that his mother wouldn't think he was doing the worst with his best friend…

He jumped to a sitting position. Sam stretched her arms out over her head, her eyes pretty much open now, before she noticed the woman at the foot of the bed. "Oh… hi, Mrs. Connor."

"Hello, Samantha," his mother snuffed, and fidgeted, uncomfortably.

"It's Sam," the girl mewed, shifting up to join Casey in sitting up, propping her arms at her sides once more. She tipped her head to its right side tiredly, resting it on her own shoulder.

"Its after 10 O'clock," Mrs. Connor had a disapproving frown on her face and her brows knitted with concern… of course, she looked like that a lot, though, so… "I figured I'd best wake you up. You're parents are probably worried, anyway…"

"_Ha!_" Sam let out a little laugh as she stood up off the bed, catching Casey's mother by surprise. "My parents? Yeah, right… but thanks for thinking of 'em, Mrs. C." She talked as she walked, but did stop walking to swing down and pick her coat up off the ground for a brief second, before she started stalking towards the door again, and had the coat on by the time she was at its frame. Mrs. Connor's frown only deepened when Sam had finished her little sentence (not to mention display). In the door's frame she stopped and turned around half way, so that her profile and perhaps a little more was looking back into the room. She gave a small, warm, smile and spoke softly, "B'bye, Casey… see ya Monday, 'kay?"

He nodded his head only once, a look of innocent and slight bafflement on his face… bafflement for he really had no idea what to think or feel at this moment. She smiled a little bigger, before turning her back and heading for the stairs.

Mrs. Connor just stood there, and Casey just sat there, until they heard Sam's footsteps end at the bottom of the stairs, and then the front door open and close, meaning she was out of the house and into the night, beginning her walk home, before his mother began to prep herself, and he heard his father's heavy footsteps begin up the stairs, for what he knew would be another _long_ talk… But oh well; he'd never had this one before, anyway… The Bird And The Bees could prove interesting…


	9. Foreward

--Note, I uploaded _two_ chapters this time… so, if you just jumped to the end of the list figuring that would be the new one; check the previous chapter. This is just the prologue to Part Two. Thank you! --

.

A month would pass them by. Sam's psychical wounds would heal, and Casey's mental wounds would improve a little bit… of course, that didn't mean he was cured. His new vow simply stated that he would tell _Sam_ everything; therefore still not opening him up to anyone else… but it seemed a step in the right direction.

  Sam took on a reputation as the school's "psychotic bitch" permanently, Casey was still class wuss/punching bag, but Sam always extracted vengeance, which made it a little less often that they'd beat on him… thus; accomplishing the desired result.

  Sam didn't tell Delilah about Stan in the gym, although she didn't know why… she hated them both and breaking them up should be something she would enjoy, but she just didn't… maybe she thought Delilah wouldn't believe her, anyway… Did it really matter?

  So those two remained a couple, Stokely remained the goth/bitch/lesbian/freak of the school (big surprise), Tye remained the biggest asshole on the planet, and no one else matters enough to mention, if you ask me.

  A month passed by, with little change, but change would come, and a change no one would believe… a change that would be, dare I use such a pun, totally "out of this world".


	10. Part Two

--Finally, we get into the movie! I don't own Casey, Zeke, Marybeth, the aliens, or anything else to do with The Faculty. I only own Sam… infact, let's just put it this way: If it's familiar to you: I don't own it…--

_But under skinned knees  
And the skid marks  
Past the places where you used to learn  
You howl and listen  
Listen and wait for the  
Echoes of angels who wont return…_  
– from Everything You Want by Vertical Horizon

_Thursday_ _–_ Alone girl running along the sidewalk, moving closer and closer to the scattered crowd, everyone was heading with one and the same destination: the high school.

Sam ran as fast as she could, while trying to keep the two straps of her backpack on one shoulder. She was late, she knew it; she'd slept in because her cat had unplugged her alarm clock and she'd missed the buss and her parents leave for work at the ass crack of dawn every morning so she'd had to run to school.

She wasn't so late that it'd already started yet, or that she'd have to dash straight into her seat to still be on time, but she was too late to be there before the shit heads could get to Casey.

… She'd just had these really weird dreams…

Dreams of being under water … and no matter how hard she tried to swim she couldn't move. It was as if she wasn't in control of herself at all… and she wasn't the only one. Everyone was there… everyone was drowning.

Sam was dressed in a red camisole and skirt, like Erika in _The Blair Witch Project 2: Book of Shadows_. She turned the corner and jogged up the path that led to the front doors, but stopped at the foot of the steps. Panting, she surveyed the crowd, looking for that head of soft brown hair, over-sized blue eyes, and spiffy-looking camera he seemed constantly attached to.

After a long run-over, she didn't see him… but she did see Stokely, who had bumped into, and was now walking away from after a snappy comment towards, Stan.

"Stokely," she spoke the Goth girl's name and grasped her arm. "Hey, have you seen–"

"Boys' bathroom…" Stokely muttered, yanking her arm free ofSam's grasp and pushing past her to head onto her locker and then first glass.

"Oh shit," Sam breathed, knowing exactly what that meant, and hurried on inside the building.

As Sam neared the boys' bathroom, she realized that the only reasoned she'd ever entered one before, and probably the only reason she'd ever enter one again, was when Casey got beat up.

It was never a cheery situation.

She looked inside quickly but threw herself back against the wall a second afterward. Zeke was in there… she'd never been acquainted with him, and never wanted to. Drug dealers just weren't her people… and it was obvious he was selling, because two guys with reps for being brain dead stoners were standing right in front of him.

She waited quietly, listening to one of the stoners bickering something about whether or not "this" looked like him, and then Zeke said something about "scat" and that it was "guaranteed to jack you up"… all well and dandy… moments later, they wrapped it up and the two stoners left. Sam wasn't sure if Zeke had left with them or not, having hid before the door where they couldn't see her, so she stepped out and peaked in the bathroom. Zeke was still there. Sam jerked away, but he had already seen her.

"Hey," he said. "I know you…" and Sam peaked her head out into the doorway. "You're the chick who out bitched Delilah." And with that he offered her a handsome smile.

"Sam Warren…" she said reluctantly. "And can't you get some new news? That happened like two months ago for fuck's sake…

"Sam," he said her name, as though tasting it. "… I'm Zeke–"

"I know who you are," She interrupted. "Everybody does."

"Oh…" there was a pause between the two for a long moment, before he spoke again. "… So… you wanna buy?"

"Nope," Sam replied. "I blow enough brain cells when I'm not on school grounds, thank-you-very-much."

"You sure?"  
"Duh."

"Suit yourself, Samantha."

"Don't call me that…"

"Why?" he looked up at her again.

"Because I said so–" but Sam was interrupted by the first bell rang out through the halls, signaling that classes were starting now.

Zeke stuffed his hands in his pockets and pushed past her into the hall, looking back for a moment and saying, "Good luck with those brain cells, Sam," and walking away.

"Bye," Sam muttered, watched him until he was half way down the hall from her, and then turned back into the room and walked over to the first stall. She looked down the line, but had no idea which one Casey was hiding in.

"Case," she called. "It's me… we're alone now… where are you?"

A pause, then: "… In here," his voice was very soft, and muffled slightly from behind the door of the stall, and she heard the lock click open seconds afterward.

She rushed over to the door, half relieved yet still half worried, pushed it open, stepped in, then slammed it shut and turned back to Casey.

He was huddled in one corner, holding a tissue to his bleeding nose; his eyes were dim and hurt as they always were after he got beat up.

"Casey, I'm sorry," she said with genuine sympathy, setting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "… What did they do to you?"

"Oh, you know," Casey said bitterly, switching wods of tissue and throwing the already bloodied one in the toilette. "The same old routine… flag pole and all."

"How bad's your nose? Do you think you should go to the nurse?"

Casey shook his head. "No," he groaned.

Sam sighed sadly. "… Well, c'mon then, let's get you to class."

Casey fidgeted and then shook off Sam's hand, threw the tissue from his nose away again, and checked it quickly to see if it was still bleeding. It wasn't. He grabbed up his bag and said weakly: "Alright," and followed her out of the boys' bathroom as the second bell rang loudly through the halls.

Throughout first period, Casey seemed and looked very withdrawn, like he wasn't there, and distant, like he couldn't bear to be there. Throughout second, he slowly began to drift back into the world, and by the end of third he was pretty much his normal self again.

Sam watched him, she kept remembering her dream… she'd seen him drowning… he'd been the only one who could struggle, but it was as if something or someone was holding him back, and he'd been so close to her… so close… if only she could just give him a little push towards the surface…

She couldn't shake the eerie feelings, but she did forget about them mostly by lunchtime.

Outside the sun was high and warm… not bad at all for the time of year. Students bustled around, laughing and yelling, some teasing those with lower social statuses, and some making out.

Casey and Sam sat at a table alone, as always, where they could see Stokely from afar, but not on purpose; it just kind of happened. They talked and laughed about silly things, and by the time Sam had reached her main course of a tuna fish sandwich she couldn't have remembered what had bothered her so much if she tried.

Chewing, she looked at Casey, who was chewing and looking at her, too. She stopped, and opened her mouth, displaying her chewed up food. Casey grimaced, but quickly caught on, and showed her his chewed up food in the same childish manner.

Sam put a hand in front her mouth and said, "Wanna trade?"

Casey snorted, spat out his food so he wouldn't choke, and began laughing his high pitch little number. Sam swallowed her food and began to laugh, as well. That was an even better reaction then she'd expected!

After a few minutes they quieted down, and Casey finish his potato salad, stood up, stuffed the trash from his meal into the brown paper bag it had come in, rolled that shut, stuffed that in his backpack, grabbed his juice box, and stepped over the bench.

"I'm going for a walk," he reported.

Sam tipped her head back and to the side to look at him, still holding the half of her sandwich that was left in two hands like a squirrel chewing on a nut.

"'Kay," she said.

He gave her a bright smile – looking remarkably better then he had this morning (though I doubt he would have been able to survive the horror of high school if he hadn't had the capability to bounce back) – and then walked off.

Alone and in silence – save for the occasional particularly loud scream from the peons – she finished her sandwich, then cleaned up the leftovers, stood up, and brushed her clothes off. She stuffed the leftover food, chocolate milk cartoon, ECT into a little baggy and began the trip of walking a crossed the courtyard to throw it away.

As she strode slowly down the path she looked around her. Two jocks screaming and yelling about how they're going to "kick ass" at tomorrow night's game, a group of girls that looked like Delilah's kind of crowd giggling and shrieking about some "hotty" that "Laura" is now dating, two unhappy looking boys and an unhappy looking girl sitting in random ways (all showing off horrible I-Don't-Care-Because-I-Hate-The-World posture) and listening to trash metal pouring out of a boom box, that one couple that no one really knew the names of that was constantly fighting. At that moment, Delilah walked past Sam without even shooting her a glance. Sam grimaced and thanked god that Casey wasn't here with her right now… she hated the look he got whenever Delilah was around. _Hated it!_ She turned her attention back to the people surrounding her, not wanting to think about that anymore… there was a lonely girl wandering around looking sad like her boyfriend just broke up with her, a––

Sam stopped short as she crashed in to someone.

"_Sorry!_" the word burst out of Sam's mouth as if on reflex.

The person she walked into giggled. "It's just fine," said the girl. She had a weird accident… Sam looked up at her; she'd never seen her before…

_SHE'S SWIMMING…_

"I'm Marybeth Louise Hutchinson of Atlanta."

_She's swimming…she can move… but she's not heading towards the surface… and… she's not trying to help anyone_.

"Sam… Warren." Sam forced her voice to come out. "… Of Jersey."

"Oh, are you new here, too?" Marybeth smiled, as sweet as honey.

"I was a few weeks ago… but not anymore."

"What class you got next?"

"Biology."

Now Marybeth seemed ecstatic. "Me, too!" She seemed as though she was going to say more, but a voice from behind Sam's back made them both turn.

"Sam," It was Casey.

"Hey, Case," Sam smiled.

"I found something strange on the football field," Casey said, extending out his hand to her.

"Does finding _you_ on the football field count?" Sam asked as she looked at what he held. "Ew… sticky… what is it?"

"I don't know," replied Casey matter-of-factly. "I was thinking of taking it to Mr. Furlong and asking him."

"Ya'll mind if I come with you?" asked Marybeth quietly. "I'm new here, so I don't know my way around very well…"

"Um, sure," Casey said hesitantly. He was still afraid of people… no matter what amount of friendship that Sam could give would change that.

"Well then let's go," Sam said in a cheerful voice like _Glenda the Good Witch_.


	11. Resuscitation

_So separated  
Underwater kung ballet  
But you got no map  
You got no place to go   
You're sexy kill joy  
Bringing everybody down  
But I eat confusion  
And spit it out slow…_  
– from Resuscitation by Sheryl Crowe

.

"Mr. Furlong!" Casey chirped shortly after his little party of three stepped through the door.

"Present," the teacher called from where he sat at his desk.

Marybeth looked around shortly, before smiling as she laid eyes on Stokely, and then striding away to join her. Sam raised a brow… now _that_ is one Hell of an odd couple!

"I found something on the football field," Casey was saying as he walked closer to the teacher, leaving Sam to head for her seat. "I thought you might like to take a look."

"What is it?" Mr. Furlong asked.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

.

Sam hopped off her stool and headed towards the front of the class. A small crowd was developing around Mr. Furlong's desk, and she didn't want to be left out of it. She pushed past the people in the cluster, who knew better then to get in the way of the psychotic girl who protects the class wuss, especially after some had gotten a punch in on him that morning before she'd shown up, and stopped next to Casey, holding the backs of her arms idly.

"It certainly has a zone that only exists in the kidneys of certain squid and octopi," Mr. Furlong was saying as he looked through a microscope at the creature. "Which doesn't make sense because…"

"This is Ohio." Casey finished.

"Right," said Mr. Furlong. "It's a pelagic organism."

"What's pelagic?" asked Gabe, who was standing next to Stokely.

"Sea-dwelling organism," and several heads, including Sam's, turned to see whom somewhere farther back in the room had answered. It was Zeke.

"Exactly," said Mr. Furlong, as Zeke was already walking up towards the desk. The teacher went on: "I don't recognize this surface tissue at all, Casey. I don't want to blow smoke but I think you might have found a new species here."

"Yeah right!" scoffed Gabe.

"Hey, it could happen!" Mr. Furlong defended. "New species are found every day."

Sam looked back at Casey, who seemed utterly fascinated with everything Furlong had to say, and didn't even really hear what Zeke said, though she did hear Marybeth say something snappy about how he "knows everything", which reminded her in the first place of the new student.

_Swimming…_

"Check the follicles on its underbelly…" Mr. Furlong was saying, and Zeke was now looking in the microscope.

"What does that mean?" asked Casey.

"It means we need to call the university," replied Furlong, shooting a glance at Casey. "Let them take a look, maybe even get in on some of their federal grant money…" Now he paused, and looked up at the class in general. "Our secret, alright?"

"Hey, maybe it's from your planet, Stokely." Sam hardly heard Gabe crack.

"Oh, blow me, bozo," Stokely shot back… and then, everyone gasped and jumped back a little.

Sam nearly jumped out of her skin, her head jerking up immediately to look at the thing on the table… it looked like Gabe or Stokely had spilled a glass of water… but that wasn't what was bothering everybody… it was that the thing… had _moved_.

"Did you see that?" Casey asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he switched his gaze back and forth between Sam and the creature. Sam nodded.

"_Ca-ching_," breathed Furlong.

"What's it doing?" Gabe asked, but Mr. Furlong had already picked up the tray with the creature on it and was walking towards the back of the room. Everyone followed him instinctively as he moved towards the aquarium.

"So you think it is amphibian?" Zeke asked Furlong.

"Well, water resuscitated it," responded the teacher, stopping in front of the tank.

"But couldn't this kill it?" Casey asked.

"Yeah you don't wanna drown it," Gabe agreed.

"Only one way to find out…" said Furlong, and he gently let it slip off of the tray and into the tank full of water.

It fell for a moment, and everyone's hearts were on edge, before it began to swim! It swam for only a moment before long, red feelers began to grow out of its body, kind of like an angelfish, only extremely different.

It made a quick swerve and everyone gasped. Sam stumbled back, bumped into someone, and then looked up to see whom they were… just some jock, therefore not humane enough to apologize to. She simply regained her footing and stood again next to Casey.

"It's alright," Furlong was saying, in an attempt to calm the class. "It's okay," and then he began to pull on white plastic gloves.

"Mr. Furlong, what are you doing?" Gabe asked. Sam had never seen him so full of questions since… never?

"Just gonna check it's prostate," replied the teacher as he reached into the tank. "Actually its surface texture changed so… I wanna fell it."

There was another infatuated silence among the masses as the teacher reached for the creature. It dodged. He reached for it again, pinched it, and it turned into two!

"Jesus, it can replicate!" said Furlong, startled.

One of the creatures turned back to Furlong's hand. It pulled its lips back to reveal a set of sharp teeth and sank them right into his finger.

"_Fuck!_" Furlong shouted, yanking his hand out of the tank, bringing a few drops of water with it. There was already blood soaking around the wound. "God damnit!" he looked at his bleeding finger. "… I'm okay," said he, realizing he was the adult in front of a class full of easily impressionable students.

"It has teeth…" Casey's eyes were wide and unmoving from the thing in the tank. "Where did it get teeth?"

Mr. Furlong sighed. "I'm going to call the university."

But once again Sam was zoning out, as she watched a mesmerized Stokely press her hand to the glass of the tank. The voices behind her became muffled, but she forgot all about them as she watched the creature spread its feelers out to form a perfect lining inside Stokely's hand.

Sam's brows narrowed in bafflement and she leaned in closer, unsure if she was really seeing what she thought she was seeing. No one else – not even Stokely – seemed to notice what the creature had done…

.

Sam walked quickly through the halls, until she finally caught up with Casey. She winced when she first saw him, though… he was with Delilah.

The last period of the day had ended only a few minutes earlier, and leftover teenagers that hadn't bolted out the door the very second the bell rang were finishing with their lockers, mumbling through the halls, going to talk to friends before they leave, or heading for the door

"Hey, Case," Sam smiled and looped her arm with his playfully. "I've been thinkin' about that fish thing… got any idea what it is yet?"

"Oh yeah that's right!" Casey cried, and looked at Delilah happily. "We found a thing in biology today… it's bizarre… really bizarre… Mr. Furlong thinks it might be a new species!"

"Ooooo, let me race to the stands for that issue." Delilah replied sarcastically.

It was an awfully ballsy thing for anyone to make fun of Casey with Sam present, but all she could do before Casey spoke was shoot Delilah a nasty glare.

"Why do you rag on me so much? What did I do?"

"Nothing, it's just your fate. You're that geeky Stephen King kid. There's one of you in every school, isn't there, Samantha?" She gave Sam an overly sweet smile.

"Don't make me hurt you," Sam responded in a low voice.

"And how would _you_ do that?"

"Please, Barbie. If someone smudged your eyeliner you'd go into a bought of depression for a month and spend the brunt of it dramatically ranting about whether you should go on living or not…"

Delilah didn't respond. Instead, she stopped walking and rested with her back to the door of the faculty lounge, her hands on the knob, and looked up and down the hall to make sure they were alone before opening it.

"We can't go in there," Casey pointed out quietly.

"Casey, you're with me," Delilah said quickly, swinging inside. "Be brave."

Casey frowned, grabbed Sam by the wrist in a silent plea for her to come with him, and then stepped into the faculty lounge behind Delilah; even though he knew the type of trouble he'd been in if they were caught. That was the biggest reason Sam hated Delilah: she could get Casey to do _anything_ and often times did. She used the poor guy!

"Okay… so… what are we looking for?" Casey asked, eyeing the lounge.

"Anything," Delilah responded, moving to some shelves and looking through them. Casey and Sam shrugged and began looking in some cupboards.

"Nurse Harper's medicated," Delilah muttered, reading the label on a bottle of pills she had pulled from a purse. "Big surprise…" She dropped them back in the bag and stuffed the purse back on the shelves.

"Hey," Casey said softly as he pulled out a flask and held it up for Delilah to see. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"No, I exposed Mr. Tate's alcohol problem last year. Nobody cares." And she began to stride away as she continued rattling cruelly. "At least his wife certainly didn't when she ran off with the babysitter…"

"God you can be such a–" Casey said, shaking his head mildly.

"A what?" Delilah interrupted sharply.

"A pretty cool human being when you're not being a first class grade A bitch," Casey said, louder this time. Sam silently celebrated a success… that must be the closest he's ever come to sticking up for himself against Delilah.

"… Are you hitting on me, Casey?" Delilah arched a brow.

A quick laugh escaped Sam's lips. It was a sort of hysterical chuckle, like the sort of chuckle you give someone when they're being incredibly stupid and/or irrational. Delilah shot her a look but Casey quickly picked up conversation, trying to distract them so that they wouldn't start another fight.

"No," he said, drawing Delilah's attention back to him. "I just think you can be cool, sometimes… this not being one of them."

"Wait, Case, you said when she's _not_ being a bitch," Sam pondered aloud. "You mean there has been a time in all of her life when she _wasn't_ D.O.A in the hair dye isle?"

Delilah was about to tell Sam off when they heard footsteps outside the door. Casey was the first to move and all three of them dived inside the faculty closet. Casey shut the door just in time as the door to the lounge opened and backed away from it. The three of them paused for a moment, before they all moved quietly to peak out through the blinds.

Couch Willis and Mrs. Olson were standing in front of the water cooler, both with a little white paper cup in hand. The Couch was drinking his, but Mrs. Olson was talking.

"What happened to Mrs. Brummel?" she asked evenly.

"She didn't make it," responded the couch, swallowing his water. "Her body was too old; the heat got to her."

Sam looked over a Casey. He seemed to know, so she made an expression that asked him, as well as mouthed the words, "What are they talking about?"

Casey placed a finger to his lips and _shh_ed her quietly. She frowned and looked back through the blinds.

"Be careful of the climate here," said Mrs. Olson. "It compromises the nervous system… makes one pulsate."

"Has the entire faculty been commuted?" asked the couch, emotionlessly.

"Almost."

"What about the students?"

"Soon."

Delilah jumped, which made Sam jump, which made Casey jump, as the door to the faculty lounge opened again and Nurse Harper stepped in, blowing her nose.

"What are you two still doing here?" she asked them, the strain from her cold clear in her voice. "I thought it was the only one left…" She walked over to the shelves Delilah had been picking through moments earlier, and pulled out the same leather purse Delilah had looked through.

"There aren't enough drugs in the world…" the nurse muttered, pulling out her pills.

Mrs. Olson looked back at Coach Willis. He nodded, and then she nodded in return. Nurse Harper was at the faculty fridge, washing down the medication with her V8 tomato juice, when they began to arrange themselves.

Sam held her breath as she watched them, though she could feel Casey's soft, warm breathing against her cheek, and hear Delilah's nervous breathing to her right, the opposite side of which Casey was on.

The nurse shut the fridge and turned around, bumping into the coach. She jumped, and then smiled meekly, before waking past him… but, nervously, she noticed the way the two teachers were looking at her.

"What?" Harper asked, visibly creeped out.

"I have a pain," said the couch, touching the side of his neck with a finger. "Right here…" Nurse Harper took a step back, but he grabbed her and threw her on the couch. Delilah gasped but didn't stop watching. Casey _shh_ed her, now.

Couch Willis got on top of Nurse Harper, who was struggling, on the sofa. His eyes rolled back in his head and deep blue veins became visible all over his body. He opened his mouth wide and something came out of it and shot into the Nurse's ear. Mrs. Olson just stood there, at the head of the couch, watching.

There was blood.

Delilah stumbled back until she had stumbled into the coats on that side of the closet… but something fell out from behind them, and landed on top of her. Casey and Sam looked at it and, in horror, realized it was a corpse!

Sam opened her mouth to scream but Casey clamped a hand over it and pulled her right up next to him. Delilah shifted out from under the corpse and stumbled until she'd backed up into Casey, who clamped his other hand over _her_ mouth. She tried to twist away, but there really wasn't enough room to in the little nook they had themselves tuck into.

"_Shh, shh, shh,_" Casey kept repeating desperately. All three of them stopped whatever they were during as they heard the couch stand up off the sofa. "Alright… are you okay, Sam?" he whispered. Sam nodded. "How about you, Delilah?" She shook her head feverishly, and tear tracks were smudged on her previously perfect cheeks. "Delilah." He said, a little more persistently. She let out another sob, perhaps from frustration, but forced herself to nod anyway.

"All right, I'm going to let you go now," Casey said, slowly releasing both girls… they could both hear footsteps approaching the closet. "Now listen, here's the plan…"

Moments later, the door came open, with Coach Willis in its frame. Casey shoved the broomstick into his stomach and the coach collapsed to his knees. Delilah burst out, ran past, and shoved Mrs. Olson over a table. Casey and Sam then dashed out of the room after Delilah.

Sam nearly tripped, but grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling. She looked down to see what she tripped on… it was Nurse Harper, blood running down her face, and she had grabbed her ankle.

Sam screamed, "_Casey!_"

Both Delilah and Casey stopped, and Casey jerked around and grabbed Sam by the waist, pulling her free of the nurse's grasped, then he let her go and the three ran down the hall together.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Delilah sobbed as they ran.

"Hey, slow down there!" Said Principal Drake as she stepped out into the hall to spot the children running.

"You gotta help us, Ms. Drake, they're after us!" Sam exclaimed in one quick breath.

"Hey, hey, hey; who's after you?" asked Ms. Drake, much too calm for the situation.

"Coach Willis and Mrs. Olson," Casey said quickly.

"Just ask Nurse Harper, okay, they attacked her," Delilah panted.

"Who attacked–what?" asked Mr. Tate, who had just turned the corridor. "Mrs. Drake, what's going on here?"

_They're already dead!_

"I don't know, I came in right in the middle of it," said the principal with a little smile.

_They're already dead… they're on the ocean floor… they drown a long time ago… before we even came in the water, they were dead…_

"Mrs. Brummel wigged out in the shower and then we found her body in the faculty closet!" Casey said, desperate to explain.

"What were you doing in the faculty closet?" asked Tate, arching a brow.

"Look, the coach–" said Casey.

"–And Mrs. Olson–" said Sam.

"–Attacked Nurse Harper!" finished Casey.

"Look, there's Nurse Harper," said Delilah, looking over her shoulder. "Just ask her, okay, th-they attacked her."

The two teachers and Nurse Harper stepped out of the faculty lounge… perfectly fine and unharmed, though they looked so… zombified.

"Oh," Mrs. Drake smiled, though it seemed evil, wicked, somehow. "Now we can get to the bottom of this."

"Oh, God," said Sam, slowly, in a low voice. All three of them took a step back, before Casey shouted: "Run!" and they did. They broke into a sprint immediately and headed for the exit, which was only around two corners.

Casey slipped and fell. "Wait!" he yelled. Sam turned around, shot a glance over her shoulder to see that Delilah kept going, muttered something like "fucking bitch" and then ran back to help Casey up to his feet, then they bolted out the door together.


	12. Kryptonite

_If I go crazy then will you still  
Call me Superman  
If I'm alive and well, will you be  
There holding my hand  
I'll keep you by my side  
With my superhuman might  
Kryptonite_  
– from Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Half an hour later, more of less, both Casey and Sam would find themselves once again surrounded by that school…

Casey arrived first, and told his parents that he wanted to wait out on the steps there for Sam… and a few minutes later, she arrived with her parents, too. The Warrens' introduced themselves to the Connors' and visa versa. When all that was said and done; the two groups joined into one with Sam and Casey leading the way. They walked through the halls until they reached the police; two officers, standing in front of the door to the faculty lounge… and Principle Drake.

Sam avoided the officer's eyes as they stepped into the lounge. Mrs. Olson and Coach Willis were in there…

"… I'm afraid we had a little mix up today," Ms. Drake was saying.

"In here," sighed the cop, gesturing towards the closet.

"Yes," Casey nodded.

"The body was in the closet," Sam confirmed.

"And why would Mrs. Brummel be in the closet?" Mrs. Drake asked, arching a brow.

"Because they killed her," Casey said, his eyes darting at the Coach and Olson but his head posed towards the officer and Drake.

"Oh, that's right," Drake laughed.

"Hey Casey, Sam!" quipped Coach Willis as he stood up. "Sorry about that little mix up… didn't mean to scare you."

"Apparently there's been a misunderstanding," Ms. Drake said idly.

"Wouldn't count on it," said Sam, looking up a little.

"But… What _were_ they doing in the closet?" asked Mr. Warren, scratching his thinning black head of hair.

"Oh, how do I say this without sounding improper?" thought Mrs. Olson aloud. "Hmm… kissing? Making out?"

"Oh _come on_," declared Sam. "You're forgetting that Delilah was in there with us… think about Casey's social status here, does he _really _strike you as the kinda guy who could get in on a threesome? _Especially_ with the head cheerleader as one of the bimbos?"

"Sam!" Mrs. Warren cried, her cheeks reddening, as she set a hand on her daughter's shoulder to shush her. Principle Drake smiled a little cruelly, and Casey was too distressed to be embarrassed.

Sam nudged closer to Casey and whispered just loud enough so that only the two of them could hear, "Sorry, Case, it had to be done…"

"Still, if we could just see in the closet?" asked Mr. Connor, looking at Ms. Drake.

"Certainly," she said, opening the door and gesturing for the cops to go right in. The male officer clicker on a flashlight and the female officer went inside… "It's a doll," they heard her say, and she came out holding just that.

"Meet Resuscitation Annie," Drake stated. "We use her to teach the kids CPR… although she does resemble Mrs. Brummel slightly."

"You dialed 911 for a dead doll?" The male cop asked Casey, raising an eyebrow at both of them.

"No!" Sam snapped.

"That wasn't there! They put it there!" Casey cried, his words chasing Sam's. He shot a glance at her for help.

"Look, we're not making this up." Sam said, not looking up from the doll. There was a body in there… not a doll… she saw it with her own two eyes… a dead, rotting body with a chunk of its skull missing… definitely not a doll.

"Call Delilah, she'll tell you," Casey pleaded. "She was here with us, she saw it, too."

"We called, she isn't home," said the male officer.

"Well the two of us saw it," Sam defended. "They attacked Nurse Harper!"

"Nurse Harper is epileptic; she's prone to go off." Drake argued.

"She was having an attack," Coach Willis agreed.

"Luckily she carries her medicine in her bag so we were able to help her," said Olson.

"We think it was brought on by the terrible cold she's had. I took her home myself. You can call her if you like." Mrs. Drake finished.

"Well, it is procedure," said the male cop.

"You can use the phone if my office," said Drake, already walking in that direction. She closed the door behind the officer…

"You know, that was some fast running you did down the hall, son," said the coach, looking at Casey with a small smile. "We could sure use your speed. There's a lot of chasin' on the field."

"Hear that Case?" said Mr. Connor, nudging his son's shoulder. "He said you got speed."

"Thank you," Casey said, quieter then he'd said anything yet.

Sam jumped and grabbed Casey's arm, and both teenagers flicked their eyes over to the door of Drake's officer as they heard a thump inside… they were on pins and needles for a moment until the door opened and the officer and Ms. Drake – buttoning up her jacket – waltzed out again.

"Well we've just spoken to _both_ Mrs. Brummel and Nurse Harper," Drake reported, stalking sexily over to the little group of people.

Casey store at the cops face for a moment, before he whispered to Sam the same way she had whispered to him. He said, "They got him…"

The cop frowned at them and said, "Nothing here; just two kids lookin' for some attention. Let's go." The female cop nodded, and they left together. Sam watched them, mouth hanging open in disbelief, as they brushing past the teenagers and their parents without a word.

When they were gone, Mrs. Connor turned back to Casey. "Evelyn knows someone downtown," she said sheepishly. Casey's eyes grew wide and, perhaps, frightened. "A professional…"

"He's a straight A student and now he needs a professional?" scoffed Mr. Connor. "For Christ's sakes…"

"He doesn't need a shrink," Sam hissed, ignoring it when her mother tried to silence her by setting a hand on her shoulder and shrugged it off. "I saw it, too… If it were a bloody hallucination or something only he would have seen it!"

"I am _so_ sorry, Ms. Drake," said Mrs. Connor, ignoring Sam.

"Yes," agreed Mrs. Warren. "But it wont happen again."

Drake said, "Maybe if we spoke privately in my office we could–"

"_No!_" Casey shouted, and everyone looked at him. "No… Mom, uh… maybe you're right, maybe I should see this woman, this doctor. Can we just go? Please?" he looked so pitiful when he begged…

"Alright," Mrs. Connor sighed. "Thank you, but we'll handle this at home. Sorry again for the trouble."

"What about you, Mrs. Warren?" asked Drake, gesturing towards Sam's mother.

"Mommy, please, no," Sam pleaded under her voice, looking at her mother desperately. "Please, please, let's just go home, please?"

"Sammy," Mrs. Warren laughed a little. "It's alright–"

"No, please, it's not," Sam begged, shaking her head.

Mrs. Warren sighed heavily. "I'm sorry Mrs. Drake; I'll just have to handle this with Sammy myself. Sorry for the inconvenience…"

Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

The adults shared their goodbyes and left the building. Sam watched Casey with nervous eyes the whole time, and when they hugged to say goodbye she never wanted to let go… and when both cars were separately heading towards different destinations, she spent the whole ride silently praying that he would be safe.

That night, Sam, in her pajamas of choice (ringer tee, super short shorts, and bare feet) paced the floor of her room over and over again, back a forth, to and fro, ECT. She was edgy, and no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't figure out what was going on… and she was worried about Casey… it was driving her mad!

Finally, at a little after nine p.m., she cracked. She picked up the portable phone from the wall in the kitchen, carried it back to her room, and punched in the Connors' number. She threw herself down on her back on her bed and waited about four rings before someone answered.

"Hello?" It wasn't Casey.

"Hi," she tried to sound cheerful, but wasn't too convincing. "Can Casey come to the phone please?"

"Nope," said the male voice on the other end. "He's grounded."

"Grounded?" Sam blurted out. "Why?"

"… Say, aren't you the kid from the faculty closet today? Sall?"

"Sam," she corrected, fidgeting her shoulders. She wasn't at all fond of Casey's father.

"Oh," he seemed pleased now. "Then you should know exactly why he's grounded."

"For telling the truth?" she shot back. "For trusting you to trust him? Oh, yeah, how heinous. Charles Manson, move over!"

"Zip it, Warren," he said harshly. "You're not allowed around my son anymore, you hear that? Ever since he met you he's been acting all messed up! You're a bad influence on him; just stay away."

"_A bad influence!_" Sam shot to sit straight up. "What the fuck are you on–"

There was a click on the other end and the line went dead. Sam stared at the phone for a long moment, in disbelief, and then, in frustration she chucked it a crossed the room before throwing herself back down on her bed, not caring what happened to it or what it hit. She lied still – besides her blinking and breathing – until she heard the phone collide with something, clank around, and then come to a rest. Still in anger, she stretched her arm out above her head, grabbed her pillow, yanked it down to her, and hugged it tightly.

This couldn't be happening! They'd seen a dead woman, ran for their lives, pleaded with the police to believe them, been scorned by their parents as liars, thought to be skitzo and fucking like jack rabbits, and now they were going to be separated? They were all they had… _They are all going to drown…_

_Friday – _The next morning, Sam awoke like any other… hear the alarm clock squeal, push the cat off her face, get up, and try to remember what day it is.

She pulled some clothes out of her dresser and put on a caramel/­brown halter top, denim cut-off short shorts, and a gray hoodie with the red-lettered logo of some university on it, which was only about an inch shorter then the shorts. She also slipped on a pair of black sneakers on her way out of the house.

The entire time she dressed she was thinking about ditching school… she didn't want to go, didn't want to face the students and the crazy teachers and whatever they may want to do to her… and it wasn't like anyone was going to stop her; both her parents were far away at work and wouldn't be home until late.

But none of that mattered… she _had_ to go… she had to go for Casey. She couldn't let him face this alone, because Lord knows Delilah would only care for saving her own pretty little ass.

Sam turned, left her room and walked down stairs. Once there; she fed the cat, read the note her mother had left on the refrigerator door ("_Sammy, have a nice day at school! Dinner is on the second shelf on the left_._ – Mom"_)finished up some older homework rather then eating breakfast, which she was not at all compelled to do. She rolled her sleeves up and threw her hair up in a high pony tail, and then caught the bus.

The ride seemed too slow, and Casey wasn't on there like he usually was. Had they already gotten him? What could they have done to him? The moment the ride ended she grabbed up her bag and jogged into school, threw the backpack in her lockers, and went hunting for Casey. She found him just around the corner from their first period class.

"Casey!" she called from down the hall, waving her arm in the air. He turned slowly, spotted her, smiled, and rushed over. "I was scared; you weren't on the bus!"

"My Dad drove me…" Casey said, giving her a quick hug.

"Y'know, I called you last night," Sam said, and he turned a shade paler. "Your dad… said–"

"I know what he said," Casey interrupted her quietly. "I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen–"

"Casey, Samantha," they both turned to see that it was Delilah who was coming towards them. She wasn't warring any makeup and her hair was in a ponytail and she was warring glasses and straight legged jeans and, and, and…

"Oh… my… God." Sam said slowly.

"Whoa! Delilah, you look…" Casey began.

"Don't. Come on," Delilah sighed unhappily and grabbed Casey by the arm, Sam by the sleeve. She pulled them into the bathroom and into the first stall, clicking the lock shut, and then turned back to them. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped as a voice through the speaker rang out.

"_Your attention please_. _Would the following students please come to the office_… _James Upchabeta, Delilah Profitt, and Tina Downhouser_."

"This is all your fault!" Delilah sighed, yanking her hair free. "Do you think I'm used to being called to the office?" She peaked through the little crack in the door. "They're after me…"

"There after all three of us," Casey said softly.

"Casey, get real," said Sam, her eyes narrowed as she grimaced in disgust. "You know the only one she cares about is herself."

Casey sighed and changed the subject before Delilah could reply. "Did you tell your parents?"

"My mom… wouldn't believe me, she drinks, sometimes, it's a nightmare," Delilah said quickly. "Look, we've got to go to the police."

"No," Casey countered. "I'm telling you, they've got the police!"

"We don't know what they've got," Delilah shot back.

"Look, you saw it," Sam snapped. "Mrs. Brummel was dead."

"And they attacked Nurse Harper," Casey finished in an exclamatory tone.

"They? Who are _they?_"

"Who the fuck knows?" Casey said, growing a bit frustrated.

Delilah scoffed.

"Whoever they are," Sam said surely. "They're after us… _all_ of us."

"… Well, I'm not going to stay in the handicapped bathroom for the rest of my life," said Delilah, smacking the door open and stomping out towards the halls. Casey jumped up to follow her, and Sam followed him.

"Mind letting us in on your little plan?" Sam glared at Delilah.

"I'm going to find Stan," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Stan?" echoed Casey. "Why Stan?"

"You got a better idea?" Delilah snapped, looking over her shoulder at them. They were both silent for a long moment, before Casey whispered: "No, but I have an idea on someone else we can turn to."

Having accidentally isolated herself from everyone else in the school; Sam went with Casey. Delilah found Stan and pulled him away, once again swatting down any sort of wisecrack one would make about her new look. Casey and Sam looked around until they spotted the Goth girl and jogged up to her.

"Stokely, you got a minute? We need your help." Casey said, leading her away.


	13. Damnit

_And it's happened once again  
I'll turn to a friend  
Someone that understands  
Sees to the master plan  
But everybody's gone  
And I've been here for too long  
To face this on my own  
Well I guess this is growing up …_  
– from Damnit by Blink 182

The library was the perfect place to talk, considering that the shit heads that populated the school only went in there when teachers _forced_ them to… the three sat down and Sam and Casey re-laid the story to her.

"–And they chased us but we got away." Finished Casey.

"So, all of this started when Mrs. Brummel did a wet'n'wild in the boys' locker room?" Stokely asked, arching a brow slightly.

"I think so. Everybody's been acting really strange," Casey said. "Especially the faculty."

"It's like they all turned into fuckin' pod people," Sam cracked.

"To what people?" Asked Casey, looking at her.

"Invasion of the Body Snatchers," said Stokely with a smirk. "A small town gets taken over by aliens."

"… I was joking," Sam said slowly.

"What if it really happened?" Casey asked.

"What if what really happened?" Stokely asked.

"What if something's taken over our school?"

"The Body Snatchers if just a story somebody made up, dingus," Stokely scoffed. "It's located in the fiction section of the library.

"Yeah, and so is Schindler's List." Sam smirked.

"Right," Casey said, and then looked back at Stokely. "Look, all fiction is based on some sort of truth, right? What does Ms. Burke teach us in English 101? Write what you know. How do you know this writer guy–"

"Jack Finney," said Stokely.

"–Didn't encounter aliens in his high school, which led him to write a story about an alien invasion?"

"Because no one would believe him if he said it was true," Sam thought out loud, looking at Casey. He was on to something here!

"Your conspiracy theory is flaw." Stokely shook her head.

"How so?" Casey asked quietly.

"Well, Jack Finney's Body Snatchers is a blatant rip off of The Puppet Masters by Robert Heinlein, so you can completely disregard your statement…"

"Whatever," Casey shook it off. "The point is they're here, they've been here, and they'll be here again."

Stokely stared at Casey for a moment before smirking. "You know, Casey, I think you've been racked on the flag pole one too many times."

"Back off, Stokes," Sam said in a quiet yet threatening voice.

"How do you know there's not a conspiracy?" Casey continued, totally ignoring the bickering girls. "Maybe the X-Files is right. Where do all these movies come from anyway? How do we know these writers, these directors, haven't been visited by aliens?"

"Maybe they're aliens themselves," Sam picked up. "Maybe they're simply preparing us for what's to come."

"It's fiction, okay? Science fiction." Stokely growled.

"But what if all this _science fiction_ stuff is a trick?" said Sam, now seeming to believe in it just as much as Casey. "I mean; that's an oxymoron in the first place."

"Exactly!" Casey declared. "Everyone is getting hung up on the science part which has nothing to do with it. They're really getting us with the fiction!"

"So aliens have just been setting us up over the years, creating this happy, make-believe, little existence with their E.T. and their Men In Black movies just so nobody would believe it if it really happened?" Stokely questions.

"I think so, yeah…" said Casey.

"You're not buying any of this, are you?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm not… but," she smirked. "It is kinda cool."

The three paused as another message rang out from the speakers above head. This was the third one today…

"_Would the following students please report to the office… Gabe Santora, Tye Malloy, and Samantha Warren…_"

Sam gave a low moan and sank deeper in her chair.

"… Okay, so what's missing?" Casey asked, turning his attention back to Stokely, when all that was said and done.

"Well in The Body Snatchers they were pods," said Stokely. "But where are they? And where are the pods?"

"There are no pods," Casey lowered his eyes. "They're coming as something else…"

"Well," Stokely thought. "In The Puppet Masters, they were parasites."

Sam raised her head, eyes suddenly wide and alert. "What? _What?_" Casey asked her, and both he and Stokely were staring at her strangely.

"The thing you found," Sam exclaimed, looking at him. "Casey! The thing! The fish thing you brought into bio lab!"

Stokely and Casey exchanged a glance, and then they all stood up and left the table quickly.

Sam nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice behind them as they walked through the hall, heading for Mr. Furlong's room.

"I filled Stan it," it said… and a split second later she realized it was Delilah. Stan walking beside her, looking incredulous.

"Come with us," Casey told them. "Sam's on to something."

Delilah gave Sam a strange glare. "Really?"

Sam offered her an overly sweet, overly fake smile, and then turned her attention back to where she was going.

They entered the Biology Lab, Sam at the head of the group, but she stopped short when she saw the tank. Casey almost ran into her, Stokely almost into him, Delilah almost into her, and Stan almost into her.

"What? What is it?" Stokely asked.

"They're gone," Sam said, taking slower steps until she was right up to the tank. She touched the glass, carefully with her hand. It was filled with waters, but the creatures were nowhere to be found.

"Maybe he sent them to the university?" Stokely guessed.

"Doubtful," said Casey, walking around the tank.

"Where else could it be?" Stokely asked.

"What?" Delilah asked. "What is it? What are you talking about?"

"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?" asked Stan.

"Okay, it all started yesterday," said Casey. "When I found this _thing_, this new species–"

"Which is now missing," Stokely added.

"We think that aliens are taking over our school," Casey got to the point.

But Stan only laughed… "What? Come on!"

"You saw what Brummel did the shower," Casey defended.

"And we saw her dead body in the closet," Delilah said, her voice barely audible.

"And they've been calling students into the office all day," said Sam.

"Students with the most influence on them," added Stokely. "Including the new team captain."

"Looks like you chose the right time to quit football," Delilah said nastily.

"… You think aliens have infested our school?" asked Stan, obviously not believing a word they'd said. "Give me a fucking break!" Stan cried.

"Do you have a better explanation, Stan?" argued Casey. "Good."

"I mean, just listen to yourselves," Stan rattled on. "Teachers are aliens? That's not just idiotic, that's fuckin' psychotic! Come on guys, this is nuts!"

"Then why don't you leave, Sparky?" Sam pressed. "What are you hanging around for if you're so sure you don't believe us?"

"Yeah," snapped Delilah, missing the point entirely. "Go win the Pulitzer or something!"

"Oh blow me, Delilah," Stan barked. "'Cause I'm sick of your shit!"

"Well then get the fuck out of here and take your little freak dyke," Delilah pointed at Stokely. "With you!"

"Fuck you, tit bags!" Stokely cried.

"You!" Delilah shouted back.

"Score one for Stokely…" Sam muttered.

"Oh and you should know," barked Delilah, turning to her now. "Queen _Bitch!_"

"Delilah, shove my fist…" Sam said tiredly, as if this was all getting very old.

Delilah turned on Sam and began to scream, but Casey interrupted her, showing a volume to his voice no one knew existed.

"_Will everybody calm down?_ Please?"

There was a pause, everyone just store at Casey, before Stan bounced back. "All right Casey," he said, and then began with the mocking: "Let's go "alien" for a second… why here? Why Ohio?"

"If you were going to take over the world," Casey began. "Would you blow up the White House, Independence Day style, or sneak in through the back door?"

Suddenly there was a scream. Delilah yelped and jumped around; Sam tripped and nearly fell, but grabbed the side of the fish tank for support. Zeke entered, clutching his stomach like a mutant baby was going to pop out of it like in _Aliens_, and Marybeth followed, giggling girlishly.

"Case, man," said Zeke, straightening up. "The only person in this school that's an alien… is you."

"Fuck you, Zeke," Casey said. Sam smirked proudly, and wrapped an arm around Casey's shoulders. Zeke faked a hurt expression.

Again they all jumped, as the door came open, and Mr. Furlong came waltzing in. "What's going on here?" he asked, looking at the cluster of teenagers in his room. "Shouldn't you people be in class?"

"Well, it's like this Mr. Furlong," Zeke began, and if Sam had been closer she would have struck him. "Casey, here, thinks you're an alien."

Mr. Furlong chuckled a little, his eyes slipping over to the student is question. "Really?"

"The whole faculty, actually," Stan finished.

"Is that true, Casey?" Mr. Furlong asked. Sam's status of holding her friend had gone from proud to protective in 2.2 seconds.

"The, uh," Casey stuttered. "The _thing_ I found yesterday… where is?"

"I sent it to the university," replied Mr. Furlong, emotionlessly.

"Do they know what it is?" Sam asked, narrowing the space between her thin brows and her baby eyes.

Mr. Furlong didn't respond. He just sighed deeply, staring at Casey and Sam.

After a long moment, Zeke sighed. "Look, sorry to impose and disrupt, Mr. Furlong–" said Zeke, walking towards the door. Mr. Furlong grabbed his arm, stopping him in mid-walk. Sam could tell he was holding on very tight, not only because of the way the shirt curled, but because of the shocked looked of pain on Zeke's face.

"If you would kindly take your seats, this will be over quite quickly," said Furlong… and when nobody moved, he shouted in an angry tone. "_Now sit down!_" and as he shouted he threw Zeke down.

Casey rushed at Furlong, but Furlong was too quick and grabbed him up by the throat and raised him off the ground. Sam tried to run to Casey's aid but Stokely stopped her by throwing her arms around Sam's waist and holding on so tight bracelets would leave bruises. Sam struggled, but couldn't escape the hold of the other girl.

Delilah panicked, and tried to run past him while he was preoccupied with strangling Casey, but he caught her still and struck her so hard she fell down over a table, which Marybeth was already hiding behind.

Meanwhile Zeke pulled the blade from the paper cutter, sending little bolts and pieces flying carelessly. A split second or so after, Sam broke free from Stokely and dashed a crossed the room. She grabbed the hand the teacher had around Casey's neck, pried a finger loose, and bit it with all her strength.

Furlong bellowed and smacked Sam so hard a crossed the face that she fell to the floor. Carelessly he threw Casey a crossed the room, where Stan caught him, and then reached down and lifted Sam up by the back of her shirt, his arm bent over her head. He lifted her up until the very toes of her feet pointed downward were hanging above the ground. The collar of her shirt was choking her like a noose. She clawed at it, but couldn't get it to loosen.

"Put her the fuck down, Furlong!" Zeke said, coldly.

"This is all for the best, Zeke," said Furlong, cold and emotionless, but he cast Sam aside even so, throwing her over the same table he had thrown Delilah moments ago and turning on Zeke.

Sam lay on the ground, coughing. Her neck was bent by the desk against the back of her head, and she curled her legs up so that her feet were flat against the ground but spread quite far apart and her knees were locked together side-by-side. She heard the teacher scream, and opened her eyes, still breathing heavy. She saw Delilah sitting up, leaning against the table behind them, and Marybeth hunched over her. Delilah was just closing her mouth and Marybeth's face was so close to hers…

"Sorry if I'm interrupting anything," Sam said, breathlessly.

"Not at all," Marybeth smiled, and sat down on the ground on the opposite side of Delilah in which Sam was on. Sam shrugged, and figured Marybeth just didn't get the joke.

Sam's eyes drifted lazily to her left, where she stopped and screamed. Fingers! Fingers with red feelers sticking out of them were crawling towards the three girls!

Delilah and Marybeth looked when she screamed and saw them, too. All three jumped up, but the fingers just tried to crawl up their legs. They stood there, all three of them, swatting them off like crazy, before Sam got the brilliant idea to stomp on them like bugs. When they say it worked; Delilah and Marybeth did it, too.

They only jerked their heads up to look when they heard the sound of Zeke impacting with the tank. Sam watched it shatter into a million pieces, sending little bits of glass halfway of everywhere, and water soaked Zeke and the floor.

Mr. Furlong trudged over to Zeke, looking like he could kill with a stare. He grabbed Zeke up by the front of his shirt and threw him on the table where the aquarium had previously been. His eyes rolled back in his head, like Couch Willis' had, and he opened his mouth wide, one of the things Casey had found crawling out of it.

Armed with nothing else, Zeke yanks a pen filled with white powder out of his pocket and held it up. He braced himself for a moment, before slamming it through the teacher's eyes.

Mr. Furlong retched, letting go of Zeke and backing away until he was behind a far off table. Zeke swatted the thing of him and stomped on it, much like the girls had been stomping earlier. Stan tossed Zeke the blade from the cutter, and the little crowd of teenagers slowly advanced to where the teacher lay to inspect him.

They all looked down, breathing heavier then usual, at the fallen teacher. His eye had swelled up and there was foam and puss all over the place.

_Yep… he just might be dead…_

"… Isn't this usually the point where someone says 'Let's get the hell out of here'?" Stokely asked, breaking the silence.

"Let's get the hell outta here!" said Stan, stepping around everybody and heading to the door. Everyone followed, except Casey who crouched down to retrieve one of the fingers that had not been crushed.

"Gotta have proof," he whispered.

"Aliens are taking over the fuckin' school!" Stan was ranting.

"Figured that out all by yourself, did ya, Sparky?" Sam responded sarcastically.

"Alright, everybody, here's the deal," Stan said, wisely ignoring her. "Run straight to the parking lot. We'll all go together and try to stay calm." Every nodded, and he pushed open the door, Sam and Casey on everyone's tails.

The walk through the halls was strange. All the other students were starring and whispering, or too busy consuming mass amounts of water to notice, either way. The group walked on nervously and fast, ignoring the already infected population, until they reached the parking lot.

"My car," said Zeke.

"Where are we going?" Casey asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Anywhere but here," sighed Sam, throwing herself inside the back seat of the car. Casey climbed in next, then Stokely, then Delilah… Marybeth slipped in to sit in the middle up front, and Stan was just about to get in with Zeke and Marybeth in the passenger seat when the football fags spotted him…

"Hey Stan," called Gabe. "Where ya going buddy?"

"We're, uh…" Stan looked back at Zeke for help.

"Just get in the fucking car," Zeke said in a low, even voice. Stan began to, before Gabe started talking again.

"You sure you don't wanna play with us?" Gabe asked.

"Nah, Gabe–" Stan said, but he had no chance to say anything else because a second after his door was closed Zeke floored the gas.

"What the fuck is going on?" Stan griped again, turning to look past Marybeth at Zeke.

Zeke lit a cigarette and said, "Let's see if anyone's talkin'." He clicked on the radio, to find only static… obviously, that was not what anyone was expecting. He spun the dial in all directions but there was nothing, nothing at all.

"You gotta be shittin' me…" Sam said, starring at the car stereo.

"Who the fuck are these guys?" Stan complained, and she raised her eyes again to see a police blockade. Zeke slowed the car as they approached to see and think.

"_No_, Zeke, they have the cops!" Sam cried.

"Fuck this shit!" Zeke nodded and then floored the gas again and swerved the car off the road, past the block, then back onto the road and speeding down it.


	14. MoreThanWanted

--Hey! I just wanted to stop by and give thanks to Miss Kitten for her _awesome_ reviews! Yes, I am the kind of crack head person who loves creative criticism… maybe more then good reviews raises eye brows? lol! But no, really… it helps to better you as an author, so it's truly wicked. So, I'm thanking Miss Kitten… she has some _really_ good points… and some things I could argue with… but nonetheless; it was greatly appreciated!--

_I am more then you will see  
__And I am more then you will need  
And I am more then you will see  
More then wanted…_  
– from More Then Wanted by Vanessa Carlton

Sam felt the car stop. She opened her eyes and looked up and to her side. Her head was resting against Casey's shoulder. "We're here," he whispered.

It wasn't a very long drive from the school to Zeke's house, but it was already approaching twilight outside. Sam sat up straight and Casey slipped out quickly so that she, too, could mosey to her right towards the open door. She stepped out where Casey was already waiting for her. They followed the group into Zeke's garage.

Everyone looked around upon entering. There was a couch, a stool, a bunch of other random objects, but the main thing was the table… on the table were test tubes filled with all different colored liquids, a white experiment rat in it's cage, a few dozen capsules and bottles of pills and things like that, and a gun.

"Where's your mom and dad?" Casey asked, softly, his big blue eyes looking over the table.

"Europe…" Zeke paused. "I think."

"This is some serious shit," observed Stan; as Sam pulled off her coat and threw it over the arm of the couch closest to the door.

"Is this your big secret?" Marybeth asked, unimpressed, and she held them up like she was Vanna White. "Caffeine pills?"

Zeke covered the front of the packet with his hand and took it from her. "You didn't see that," he said coolly, dropping a rag on the rest of them.

"What are we going to do?" Delilah gruffed. "With the police _not_ being an option?"

"I–uh–I can call me dad," Stan came up with, on such a short notice. "He'd know what to do."

"Yeah, if he's even your dad anymore," Casey said. Stan nodded solemnly and looked down. Casey diverted his eyes away… they'd laid to rest on the gun and he store at it for quite the moment because looking up at Zeke with a look of innocent confusion.

"It's called a gun, man," Zeke said, as he took the jar with the creature in it – which had now changed back from it's form of a fingers – and moved it over to a little place on the table where there was a metal tray, scalpels and things like that, and a microscope. He set it down on the tray and cut off a little piece.

"What is it?" Casey whispered.

"We're going to find out," said Zeke, setting the chunk of creature in the rat's cage. Then he turned back, filled an eye dropped with water, and turned back to the cage. "Hey, c'mere, Oscar…" he said as he carefully dripped a very little bit of water on the alien chunk.

The little white rat approached it, smelling carefully, but reared back as red feelers sprang out of it and it grabbed around the rats head.

"Ew, yuck!" Delilah squealed (if you weren't right next to her, you wouldn't have heard it) and the thing crawled over to the rat, and then into his ear.

The rat squealed just barely, and then stood very still for a long moment, before it raised its little hands up, licked them, began cleaning the top of its head, and then scurried over to its water bottle.

"Geeze," Casey breathed.

"Now what?" Stan griped.

Zeke put his hand inside the cage and grasped the rats, gently at first. "I'm sorry buddy," he said before he twisted the rat's neck in his two fingers, killing it instantly. A few of the watchers moaned in disgust or something like it. Sam merely looked away out of respect for Oscar.

A short time later the rat lay on its back in the metal tray, cut and pinned open. Carefully, Zeke pulled the thing out of the rat's chest and cut its feelers loose. He set it under the microscope and looked through it. The other teenagers huddled around him, watching.

"See, it's a parasite," he was saying. "It attaches itself to a host and then it controls it." He looked at his instruments, grasped a scalpel, and then cut it open. "… It's incomplete," he said after a moment.

"What do you mean?" asked Stokely.

"It can survive on its own, but it's really part of a greater organism. It has the ability to replicate but it needs a host… something moist." He then gestured to the dead rat. "See what it did to Oscar's insides? It dried them out."

"Isn't a human's body composed mainly of water?" Stan spoke now.

"They're using us," Stokely stated. "Drying us out."

"Like Mrs. Brummel," said Stan.

"I heard coach say her body was too old," Casey said, looking up from the dead rodent. "That she couldn't take the heat."

"See, that partially explains what happened to Furlong," said Zeke, as he opened up a drug pen, pouring scat all over the creature. It bubbled and shriveled up until it was a disgusting mass of white fuzz covering the very little of the actual creature that had survived it. "The drug's a diuretic," Zeke shot a glance behind him at the teenagers. "It dries it out… kills it."

"They're using us as hosts," Stokely thought out loud. "They're just turning us into mindless slaves they can control."

"How do you know that?" Zeke asked, turning to her.

"She doesn't," Delilah snubbed. "She's a trekky sci-fi freak!"

"Who's been right so far!" Stan defended.

"How can we stop it?" Marybeth asked, looking over at Stokely who was sitting right beside her on a stool.

"Yeah, Stokely," said Casey. "This is your area."

"In theory; they're all connected," Stokely began. Everyone was looking at her. "If we kill the master we get them all."

"In theory," Delilah stressed.

"What happens to everybody else?" asked Stan. "The ones that have been taken over?"

"They'd all become human again," Stokely said, then looked to Delilah and smiled curtly. "But that is _in theory_ so…"

"So if we found the leader–" said Casey.

"–And killed it–" said Sam.

"We'd beat it?"

"What are we even talking about?" Delilah said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I say we get the fuck out of town."

"And go where?" Sam shot at her.

"We gotta stop it or it'll spread," Casey said quietly. "It took over the high school in a day and a half. Give it a week and we'll never outrun it… we have to fight."

"Fight what? We don't even know whose alien and who's not!" said Stan. "What if one of us was an alien right now? How would we know?"

"He's right," said Stokely. "How do I know you're really Casey?"

"How do I know you're really you?" he responded, quietly.

"Well, in The Body Snatchers humans became emotionless. They completely lost their identities."

"The coach had emotion," Stan said. "I mean he's usually real hard ass but he was different somehow. His behavior was slightly odd."

"Like a star quarterback who mysteriously quits the football team?" Delilah accused, looking sharply at Stan.

"What are you doin' Delilah?"

"I'm just pointing out your slightly odd behavior, Stan," said Delilah. "You've been acting pretty weird the past couple of days."

"I'm not alien," Stan moaned. "I'm discontent."

"There's another big word." She wrinkled her nose slightly.

"Only for you, Barbie," Sam muttered, leaning against the table.

"You wanna talk slightly odd?" Stan shot back. "What about you? You haven't been without your contacts or hairspray since… birth?"

"I'm incognito," Delilah glared.

"Look, we just have to trust each other," Stokely said.

"And I'm supposed to trust you?" Delilah turned on her now. "Tell me something, Miss Lesbian, when did you start liking boys?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Stokely asked, her class showing.

"I've seen the way you look at Stan," Delilah pressed. "So when did you stop _muff_ diving?"

"She's not a lesbian, alright?" Marybeth said, coming to the rescue. "That was a hoax."

"Really?" Delilah hissed, turning on her. "What about you, Miss Atlanta? Because it's just really convenient you showed up _the second_ all this started happening. What are you doing in Ohio?"

Marybeth muttered her answers and, being all the way a crossed the table from her, Sam hear it, but that didn't stop her from commenting.

"God, Delilah, you're a bad ass!" she laughed. "Beating on the sweet little blonde miss from down south… _priceless!_"

"Oh yeah?" Delilah asked, cruelty heavy on her voice. Sam stood and got right up in front of Delilah, in her face.

"Uhuh," said she.

"And_ what about you_," Delilah said very slowly. "The very morning all this starts and– Oopse! You're not there to protect your pathetic little lost puppy Casey. So where were you, Samantha?"

Sam stared her down with crystalline eyes narrowed in a gesture that seemed to say You-Don't-Know-Anything with a stab of disgust behind them. "Get bent, cyber slut."

"Alright, just stop it!" Zeke ordered, standing up.

"Hey, she's got a point, Zeke!" Stan declared. "Professor. I mean, you seem to know an awful lot about this stuff. No offense but you're not exactly known for your academic achievements."

"Neither are you, man," Zeke said, waving him off.

"Casey, when did you become Sigourney Weaver?" Delilah demanding, turning on him.

"What?" Casey spoke softly.

"Alright, this is getting us nowhere," said Stan bipolarly.

"I've got a solution," said Zeke, grabbing up a tray full of pens of scat. "We know this stuff harms 'em, right?" he held it out to Stan. "Take a hit."

"No way man," said Stan. "I don't _do_ drugs."

"Aw, come on," pressed Zeke. "If you're not an alien you got nothin' to worry about."

"Not to mention that it's free," cracked Sam.

"Zeke's right," said Casey, wisely ignoring Sam's comment. "This is the only way to know for sure."

"Come on, Stan, what are you afraid of?" Zeke persisted. Stan didn't answer. "… Look, we all do it." He swung by everyone, but stopped on Casey and held the pen out to him. "Casey…"

"Why me first?" Casey asked meekly, looking so very small.

"It's your birthright, man, just fucking take it!"

Casey stared at it for a while before taking it reluctantly. He shifted his eyes up at Zeke, then closed them and snorted it.

"Easy boy," Zeke whispered, taking the pen back from him. Everyone watched in suspense, as Casey took the closest seat to where he had been standing… and was please after a time to see that he did not die.

"Now you, Zeke," said Stan. "How do we know you're not one of those fucking things?"

"I don't get high on my own stash, man," Zeke shook his head.

"Fuck that, man, you're takin' it!" Stan shouted.

Casey giggled from where he sat on the couch. "You're takin' it!" he giggled, and everyone turned to look at him. He looked high off his rocker!

Stan took a step back. Sam sat down, quite bothered by the scene, and set one hand on Casey's shoulder and the other on his knee.

"Man,_ what the hell's wrong with him?_" Stan freaked, grabbing the gun off the table and pointing it at Casey, who just laughed harder.

"Hey-hey-hey-hey-hey-hey!" Sam cried as if it was all one word, holding her hand up as if she believed that could stop a bullet.

"Nothing's wrong with him, you asshole! He's tweaking, let him freakin' tweak!" Zeke shouted. Stan pointed the gun on Zeke.

"Now you…"

Zeke shook his head, but snorted the stuff anyway. He opened his arms slowly to display that nothing was happening to him, and after a long moment he spoke again. "Your turn," he groaned slowly, reaching back and grabbing another pen of scat, he exchanged that for the gun.

Stan frowned, then sniffed it crossly, and then sat down on the couch on the other side of Sam. Zeke blinked his eyes several times as he turned back, grabbed another pen of scat, and then held it out to Marybeth. She pushed it away, saying: "I can't, you know I can't." He nudged it in your direction again.

"I can't," Marybeth repeated, eyes growing wide. "I'm allergic."

"Yeah, and I'm Portuguese," Delilah growled. "Who cares?"

Stan began to giggle to Sam's left. Great, now she had a trippin' guy on either side of her; this day just couldn't get any better!

Marybeth frowned deeply, but gave up and took the pen. She set it in one nostril, look around slowly, and then sniffed it, throwing her head back. When she was finished, she looked sicked out, and dropped the empty pen on the floor. It rolled under the couch. They all waited. Nothing happened.

Zeke turned to Stokely, saying her name.

"No," Stokely shook her head. "I'm not putting that… _hack _drug up my nose; it's so… 80's."

"Aliens are taking over the world," Zeke informed. "Weigh it."

Stokely sighed, took the drug, and studied the white powder inside with her eyes. "What's in it?" she asked, looking up at Zeke again.

"Mostly caffeine and some other household shit," Zeke replied quickly.

Stokely sighed again, but gave up and sniffed it. She handed the empty thing back to Zeke and then sat with her head in her hands, not dying.

"Now you Delilah," said Zeke turning on her with a fresh pen.

"No," Delilah groaned. She pointed at Sam. "Her first."

Zeke rubbed both of his eyes hard with the backs of his hands. "Okay, you both take it," Zeke said, turning back to both girls and holding out a pen of scat in either direction. Sam looked at it.

"… What did I tell you about the brain cells?" she said in a quiet breath of a voice.

"Sorry, Sam, but sometimes a couple just have to die," Zeke said, still holding it in her direction.

"More like a couple _dozen_," she muttered, snatching it out of his hand. Delilah took her pen as well, and the two glared at each other.

"Ooo, Showdown," Casey said in a deep voice, sending all the jacked up teenagers into hysterics again.

Delilah and Sam, watching each other like hawks, unscrewed the caps of their pens, set the open end in one nostril, closed the other with their fingers… and sniffed deeply.

Sam finished, threw her hands away from her face for a moment, before bringing it back – still holding the empty scat pen – and laying the finger tips of one hand on either side of her face. It only took her seconds to realize something wasn't right…

Delilah had flown back in her chair. Her glasses had fallen to the floor, and her hair and an arm were covering her face. Everyone was silent… slowly, cautiously; Stan stood up from the couch and crept over to her. He grabbed her arm and pulled it away from her head. She jerked to face him… and there were things crawling underneath her skin!

"Oh shit," Stan moaned, dropping her arm and taking a step back. Casey jumped up and grabbed the gun. When he turned around, Delilah was on her feet.

"Shoot her; shoot her in the head, Casey!" Zeke ordered.

Sam crawled off the couch and back away from Delilah, until she accidentally bumped into someone. She yelped as hands clasped onto her shoulders and looked behind her. It was Marybeth.

"I don't know what's happening…" Sam heard Delilah's shaking voice. She pulled her shoulders free of Marybeth, who looked way too calm, and watched her for a moment.

SHE IS SWIMMING Marybeth only smiled at her, but Sam jerked her eyes back as she heard shouting. "Shoot her, Casey!" Zeke was yelling. "Don't shoot her, Casey!" Stan was yelling. 

"_She's fucking one of them, Casey!_" screamed Sam.

"Shoot her!" Zeke finished.

"There's nowhere to go," Delilah said menacingly, her eyes rolling back in her head, imprints of creatures crawling under her flesh. "Nowhere to hide; we're everywhere!"

"I'll fuckin' shoot her!" Stokely growled loudly, grabbing the gun from Casey. She fired it at Delilah, but missed. Delilah thrashed her body against Zeke's lab supplies, pulling them to the ground, smashing everything. Then she bolted for the door, with Stokely running straight after her.

Everyone ran after Stokely outside. She kept firing at Delilah, until Delilah hopped into a student driver car and they sped away. Stokely stumbled to a stop when she reached the sidewalk, watching the car drive out of sight. "I should've known that crazy bitch was one of 'em!"

Everyone was on the sidewalk now.

"We can get them back, Zeke," Casey said, looking at road the car had disappeared down. "We can get them all back."

"She destroyed most of my supply," said Zeke.

"If we can kill the queen we can get them all back!" Casey repeated, his voice hopeful rather then sure.

"Aw," Zeke turned around, and cried at the sky in frustration: "_Fuck!_"

Finally Marybeth slipped down the driveway. She was giggling now… guess the stuff must have finally fucked her up, too.


	15. Modern Romance

_Time, time is gone  
It stops, stops who it was  
Well I was wrong  
It never lasts  
There is no  
This is no modern romance…_  
– from Modern Romance by Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs.

"How much we got left?" Zeke asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Not much," Casey replied from the back seat. Marybeth was sitting to his right with Stokely to her right, the blonde holding the thing that contained what was left of the scat, and Sam was to his left, staring straight ahead, the side of her head resting in her hand with her elbow propped up on the window sill.

"Well we only need enough to get the queen." Zeke said complacently. "We get her; we get them all, right?"

"I think so," said Stokely

"Well, where are we gonna find her?" Marybeth asked.

"Friday Night?" Stan scoffed. "There's only one place she can be."

"The game," Sam finished, and the school was looming not too far ahead, and she shivered and only then realized that she had forgotten her coat back in Zeke's garage.

Zeke floored the pedal and the car jerked forwards.

They parked by the gym. The game was going strong, and lights lit up the field, because night – and with it, the dark – had already come… but that side of the gym was in shadows.

"We're going to go find Drake," Stan said, heading off towards the game with Stokely by his side.

"Alright," said Zeke, heading towards the back door of the gym. The rest of the teenagers followed. They found the door locked shut.

"Anybody got a hair pin?" Zeke asked, looking at Marybeth and Sam.

"No," Sam said, reaching into her shoe. "But I do have a safety pin."

She pulled it out and handed it to Zeke, who shrugged, popped it open, and got to work picking the lock. Less then ten minutes later; they were all inside, pacing around the gym floor.

"We found Drake," they all jumped and swirled around to face the voice. It was Stan.

"She's at the game," said Stokely, joining the small cluster of teenagers again.

"What are you kids doing in here?" Again there was the whole jerking around bit, as a new voice came from the front of the gym… this time they knew it couldn't be one of them… not to mention that they'd spent so long at that school… they knew that voice.

Drake walked in, swaying her hips seductively. "The gym is closed. All of you come with me." She stopped walking.

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Ms. Drake," Casey said softly, as they all gathered around in their respective positions.

"And why is that?" she laughed a bit… but the laughter was short lived. Stan and Zeke dived at her from her right, jumped to their feet, and wrapped her up in volleyball net as quickly as they could. She struggled against them when they tackled her and now struggled to get loose.

"Get the door, Zeke, Sam!" Stan barked orders… and they obeyed, running to the front and smacking blacks metal chair in the handles to hold big double doors shut.

"Get off!" Ms. Drake cried. "Uh! You're all expelled!"

"Stop the act," said Casey. "No one's buying it."

"We know who you are." Stokely backed him up.

"You ready?" Stan asked, looking at Casey.

"Yep," Casey said, popping the top off a pen of scat. There was a nerve racking moment as he held it down towards Drake, before he said: "… Sniff this."

"No," she breathed. At this moment, Zeke jammed the last chair in place. Sam turned and jogged back to the gym floors.

"Sniff it, or he shoots you." Casey said, as if it were obviously… and at that moment, Sam crept around Ms. Drake – keeping a good, hefty distance between them – and joined the others behind Casey and Stan.

"I will not!" Drake cried breathily.

Zeke chose a quieter approach, sneaking in silently from the opposite side in which Sam had gone on. No one, not even one of the teenagers, noticed him.

"Now what?" Stan whined.

"Okay, we'll just have to do it the hard way," said Casey as he lifted the scat pen again and held Ms. Drake's chin to keep it steady. "Mr. Furlong, we punched it into his eye, the reaction was instantaneous."

"Okay," agreed Stan, raising the gun again. "You stick her and then I'll shoot her before it erupts all over the place."

"Casey, are you on drugs?" asked the principal in that same breathy voice.

Casey hesitated.

"What's wrong?" Sam broke the silence.

"Are we sure?" asked Casey.

"Please don't! No, Casey!" the principal was sobbing all the while.

"Don't wuss out, Casey, just do it!" urged Stan.

But Casey stalled, and Ms. Drake began to rise to her feet, still sobbing and pleading loudly. Zeke pushed past Stan, grabbing the gun from him, raised it, and shot Drake straight in the forehead.

She fell backwards, until she lay crumpled on the floor like an old candy wrapped, a pool of blood beginning to form around her head.

"What if we were wrong?" whispered Marybeth.

"Stab her and find out," said Stokely with her usual lack of enthusiasm, nudging Casey. He took a step forwards…

"I think we made a mistake, guys," said Casey, turning back to his friends. "I think she's… really…"

"Dead?" Sam finished.

"Yeah–"

Ms. Drake rose up again, much like Reagan in _The Exorcist_, eyes rolling back in her head and feelers stretching out of the bullet hole. Several of them screamed and backed away. Marybeth panicked; yanked open the scat container in her hands, and threw it against Ms. Drake. Drake screamed and fell to the floor again, bending her knees under her body, as she shriveled and dried up, oozing puss and chest sinking into mushy yet brittle blackness.

"Is that it?" Zeke asked. He had a hold of Marybeth's wrist. She nodded. "Well, let's see if it worked."

They jogged slowly over to the windows out front and looked out. Rain was pouring down, as thick as black oil, and all the little people were running out of the stands. They couldn't see the actual team through the rain…

"Better have work," Stokely muttered. "Or there's gonna be a lot of infected people going home."

"And we're right at ground zero," Casey added.

"Okay guys," Stan said, walking past Marybeth. "Stay here. I'm gonna go check it out." He turned to Zeke. "I'm gonna need some scat".

"Use it wisely, man." Zeke said, handing him one of the only two they had left.

"What if it wasn't Drake?" Marybeth whispered.

"Then we're _fucked_," Sam chuckled, laying her bare forehead against the cool glass.

Stan pushed open the door, but Stokely stopped him by grabbing his arm. They looked into each other's eyes for only a moment before she pulled him into a deep kiss.

Sam looked up pathetically from under her hair by tipping her head to the side ever so slightly. The kissing couple pulled apart, and Stan looked more then a little shocked.

"I just didn't want to never have done that," Stokely said with a nervous smile. Stan smiled in return, warmly, and then jogged off into the rain, shooting one last look back at Stokely.

Casey and Zeke were grinning stupidly and looking away from Stokely innocently. "What are you lookin' at?" she grunted. Sam began to laugh, which set Zeke off, too. She sent nasty glares both their ways.

The minutes ticked by, and the small group stood in silence for a long time. It was so thick you could cut it with a knife… Finally, Marybeth broke it.

"I wish I'd never come here," she complained. "I don't like this place."

"Any sign of him?" Casey asked Stokely, trying to keep conversation going before they all went insane.

"I can't tell," Stokely said, still looking out, trying to peer through the rain. "I can barely see anything–"

As if on que to scare everyone into pissing themselves: Stan's face appeared in the window. Immediately he tried to get in, but there was the folded up chairs Zeke had come up with using to hold the doors shut.

"Stokely, open the door!" he said. She reached to do it, but stopped suddenly when Casey exclaimed "No!"

"Stokely, we don't know if it's still him," Casey finished.

"No, it's me," Stan pleaded. "Listen, it isn't Drake! It's the coach! And he's right after me, open the door!"

"Don't do it, Stokes," Zeke ordered. "Prove it, Stan. Where's the drug?"

"I lost it; the coach was too fast for me!"

Zeke frowned, looked at the scat pen he'd held the entire time, and then handed it to Casey. "Last one, man."

"Please, I'm begging you; don't leave me out here!" Stan continued. "Come on, Stokely, open the door!"

Casey took a large step forward and slid the pen under the door. "There, try it," he said as he stood back where he had stood before.

"Okay, I'll do it, just let me do it inside!"

"No, you'll do it right now, man," Zeke told him, holding up the gun at his side.

"Take the test, Sparky," urged Sam.

"Stan, take the drug, man," Zeke enforced. "Prove it to us."

"Alright, alright," Stan said, picking up the drug. He opened it, displayed it so that they could all see that he had, set it in his nostril… and paused… Smirking wickedly, he slowly turned it upside down, pouring their last pen of scat all over the ground.

"_Fuck!_" Zeke shouted, turned around.

"Oh, Stan," moaned Casey, starring at the door in disbelief.

Sam ran her hands through her hair and took a step back away from the door.

"Open the door," Stan was saying slowly, speaking to only Stokely now. "It is so much _better_… there's no fear, there's no pain; it's beautiful… and you will be beautiful… you'll be beautiful… no problems, no worries… we want you. I want you. I… want… you…"

All the while Stokely's chin was trembling and she looked on the verge of tears. Sam was merely watching and it was torture, to see someone's insides being twisted and grinded like that.

"_Now open the fucking door!_" Stan thundered, slamming his palms against the doors.

"That's enough," Sam said out loud, walked over, and led Stokely away. "C'mon, Stokes…"

"Just go away Stan!" Casey called, keeping his distance from the door.

"It's too late, Stokely," Stan called, even though she had her back to him. "We've already won!"

Sam looked over her shoulder and shot him a glare so fierce it could send a lion with rabies running to its mommy in terror and flipped him her middle finger, saying "Fuck off!" to go with it. Stan only smiled.

"No pain, Stan?" Zeke asked, walking up to the door. He pressed the barrel of the gun up to the glass. "_Why don't you come in here and I'll show you some fucking pain!_" he bellowed.

Stan smiled again, before turning and jogging away. Casey and Zeke thumbled back into the main part of the gym and sat down on the bleachers to join the girls.

Casey paced the room for a long time, and they all sat in silence. Sam studied the lines on the palm of her hand while Stokely stared off into the distance, haunted with the memory of what had just happened with Stan, and Marybeth sat perfectly content, watching the other teenagers silently.

"… I say we go for the coach," Casey said after a long time, bringing everyone's attention to him. He sat down on the bottom bleacher and rested his elbows on the second. "He turned Stan. He's the one… or do you just want to wait for them to come to us?"

"Either way," Marybeth spoke softly. "We're completely unarmed."

"Maybe not," now everyone turned to look at Zeke. "I might have some more scat… in my trunk."

"In your trunk?" Casey echoed. "In your car? _Amongst_ the aliens? Oh that's convenient."

"You got a better idea?" Zeke asked, flashing his car keys… always so cool, always so calm…

Casey looked down. "Alright."

Zeke stood up and Casey followed.

"Wait!" Sam called, jumping off the bleachers and jogging up to them. Zeke watched with his normal apathy as Sam stopped in front of Casey, fidgeting a little, with one arm at her side and the other bent and the elbow a crossed her upper belly/lower chest and holding the first. "… Come back Casey, okay, Casey?"

He nodded. "I will."

"Promise?"

"Okay, I promise."

"That wasn't mandatory…"

Moments later they were gone, leaving the three girls alone in the large gymnasium. Sam sat down on the bottom bleacher, rather then where she'd been sitting next to Stokely a minutes ago, and held her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees, wondering if they would be coming back…

They sat in silence for about three minutes before Stokely struck up a conversation, and chatted with Marybeth. She tried to get Sam in on it, but all she would do was grunt. Eventually, they gave up.

"… I used to think the only alien in this school was me," Stokely admitted darkly.

"… Who do you think it is?" Marybeth whispered. "The master alien, the queen bee?"

Stokely shrugged. "It could be anyone."

"What happens at the end of these stories?" Marybeth asked in a soft voice. "How does Invasion of the Body Snatchers turn out?"

"Basically, they win, we lose."

"Do we?" Marybeth questioned. "Maybe we really win. Look at Stan, he didn't seem unhappy!"

"That's because it wasn't Stan," Stokely's voice was hollow. "They took away who he was."

"Maybe they just bettered who he was… cleared away his confusion."

There was another moment of silence between them.

"… I know you pride yourself on bein' the outside, Stokely," Marybeth spoke again. "But aren't you tired of bein' someone you're not?"

Sam furrowed her brows in confusion, and looked up – hesitantly – just in time to see Marybeth, her arm turned into a long tentacle, smack Stokely right off of the bleachers. Sam jumped up, gasped, stumbled, tripped, and fell off the bleachers out of mere clumsiness.

"No… fucking… way!" she heard Stokely say.

She slowly pulled herself to sit up, the back of her head throbbing from where it'd whacked into the hardwood floor, and looked up for a moment… that's when she saw the _thing_ Marybeth had become. She was like a giant one of those things Casey had found, only different, with long, large tentacles hanging out all over the place.

"The queen bee is Marybeth Louis Hutchinson of Atlanta?" Sam store at her for a long moment, before realizing that Stokely was trying to pull her onto her feet and it was really time they started running now, but it was at this time that one of the doors came in, and threw it rushed…

"Casey!" Sam cried, and Stokely grabbed her arm.

Casey looked up at The Queen Alien, his blue eyes growing into perfect circles. He took a step back, and Sam didn't have half a doubt that he was wishing he had his camera right about now.

"_Casey!_" Stokely shouted, bringing his attention back to the real world. He dived past what Marybeth had become and dashed over to the girls. They turned and dashed into the pool run, all running at top speed.

The Queen Bee followed. She dived into the pool and made a huge wave as she swam a crossed, so very, very fast, and the teenagers ran around. They were almost to the doors when…

"_Stokely!_" Casey cried as a tentacle wrapped around her legs, yanked her feet out from under her, sending blood pouring out of her nose, and then yanking her down into the pool with _it_.

Sam began to run to help her but Casey shoved her back against the wall so hard she was seeing nothing but red spots for a long time. She waited until her vision cleared, when she saw Casey pulling Stokely out of the pool.

Stokely didn't waste time sitting around to cough and gasp for air, but jumped to her feet and did it while she ran. Casey grabbed Sam up by the arm and they sped into the locker room.

"Hide!" Casey told them both in a harsh whisper.

"Okay," Stokely said, grabbing Sam's wrist, and led her away.

They hid behind a row of crimson lockers, a weird cage-like thing to their left. They waited in total silence, save for their breathing.

Sam watched from the corner of the lockers, too see if Marybeth or Zeke came back… she didn't change her attention back to Stokely until she felt an arm wrap around her neck from the front and pull her closer.

"Umm, Stokes," Sam looked up at her. "What the hell are you doing?"

"_Shhhhhhhh_," Stokely hissed, her other arm snaking around Sam's waist, pinning her arms to her body.

"Stokes," she repeated. "Stokely!"

Sam felt a thing shoot into her ear. Stokely clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams, and scream Sam did. She screamed as the thing shot into her brain and wiggled its way through her body… she screamed and screamed, until she couldn't scream anymore… literally. Sam tried to scream, but she couldn't for the life of her make the sound come out. Stokely hesitated, and then removed her hand. Sam shut her mouth, but did not do it at all.

"Hello," they heard Zeke call as he stumbled into the locker room.

"You take care of him," Sam said, looking back at Stokely, but she didn't say it at all. She was alien! "I'll go find Casey… he trusts me, anyway."

Stokely nodded, stood up, and went to tend to the drug dealer. Sam stood up as well, and began to weave her way through the rows and rows of lockers.


	16. Ordinary Girl

_Stop, I'm not happy anymore  
you bring heartache and anger to the core  
I have nothing to give inside me now  
I have nothing to give inside me…_  
– from Ordinary Girl by Earshot.

"Watch out," Casey peaked out from behind his hiding spot. He saw that Zeke had entered, and Marybeth and Stokely were on either side of him. "It's her!"

"Zeke, don't believe her," counted Stokely. She pointed at Marybeth. "It's her!"

"She attacked me," Marybeth argued. "Please, Zeke."

"What's going on here?" Zeke asked, totally confused.

"Zeke, it's her," Stokely repeated.

"She's lyin', she's trying to fake you out," said Marybeth… and as she continued talking, she stepped out of her hiding in the shadows. "We don't know what she is… Gay, straight, _alien_."

"Just… answer me this, Marybeth," said Zeke, watching her. "Why are you naked?"

"Does it bother you?" Marybeth asked. "My body? I'm getting used to it myself…"

"I saw you take the test," Zeke said in disbelief.

"Oh Zeke," Marybeth chuckled. "How the hell can you be sure what you saw? It was sweet of you to bond with me… to be nice to me… was sweet. Will it work again baby? Do you like what you see?"

Suddenly Zeke wielded a pen of scat in Marybeth's direction, but Stokely grabbed his arm, catching him off guard. Casey could see, even from the distance away he was, the creatures crawling underneath her skin, digging around like flees on a dog. She tried to infect him, but Casey jumped out. He gabbed her and threw her inside the fence enclosed storage area Sam had mistaken for a cage-like thing earlier.

Marybeth disappeared.

"Is Sam infected? Where is she? Take this." Zeke gave him a pen full of scat.

"Hiding," Casey answered. "From Marybeth… no, she's not… one of them… at least… I don't think…"

"Sniff it," Zeke ordered him.

"You're out of your fucking mind!"

"I'm not taking any chances," Zeke said, sounding a wee bit over the edge. "I leave for five minutes and when I come back everyone's a fucking alien… either I'm gonna Men In Black your ass, or you're gonna fucking sniff it!"

"Okay, okay," Casey grunted, twisting off the cap. He snorted it… nothing happened. "Happy now?"

Zeke nodded and ran away to find Marybeth… he did, after all, have the brunt of the scat. Casey slipped away to find a place to hide. He turned down a new row, but stopped and rested against one of the lockers.

"Jeepers," he whispered to himself, shaking his head sharply. "I think I'm seeing two of everything…"

Then he stopped, falling silent. He'd heard a noise… he knew he'd heard a noise.

"Zeke?" he whispered. No response. He whispered it a little louder. "_Zeke?_"

He gasped and his eyes shot wide and frightened as he saw a shadow creeping along the wall, coming towards him. He swallowed hard and held the half-empty pen of scat tightly in his hand, his heart thumping in his ears. The shadow turned the corner… and… it was only Sam.

"_Sam_," Casey breathed a sigh of relief in her name. "I thought you were Marybeth…"

Sam didn't respond. Instead, she slowly, cattily, walked towards him, until she was standing at his feet. She shrank down until she had knees bent and her backside touching her heels.

"Stokely… they got Stokely," Casey told her quietly. "She's an alien…"

"I know," she whispered… and, with a gentle smile she slipped her face beside his and brushed their cheeks together, ever so softly, until her lips were an inch or less away from his ear.

"Sam…" he whispered.

"Hmm?" she responded.

"Where were you hiding… before… when we first ran in here?"

She stopped, and was very still for a very long time, the only thing that moved was the blinking of his eyes and her soft breath on his neck. Finally, she moved again. She brought her head back and looked into his eyes.

"You're so afraid," she whispered. "Always so afraid… you've been afraid all your life… and ever since the day I met you all I wanted to do was take away that constant fear. I vowed to protect you, Casey, at any cost… and I think… I've finally found a way."

"Noooo," Casey moaned, very quietly, swaying a bit. "Sam, not you… _please_, not you…"

"You're not all alone, Casey," she said, setting both hands on either of his shoulders to hold him steady. He looked so faint… "You're not. I'm here; I'll always be here. I've tried so hard to cure you of your pain… and now I've finally found the way. I wouldn't have believed it had I not felt it for myself!"

"Sam," he clamped his eyes shut tight. He couldn't stand this, not her, just make her go away!

"Look at you!" Sam went on. "You're even afraid right now! You're afraid of me – your protectorate – and you're afraid of the cure."

"Please stop it…"

"Casey, look at me!" she ordered… and, for Lord only knows what reasons, he did. "I love you, Casey… I love you… as _so_ much more then a friend… and I know you love me, too. You may spend all day chasing after that skirt Delilah but in the dark hours of the night when you're alone with only the moon to keep you company you think of _me_, and imagine _me_ lying next to you."

Casey shook his head slowly. "Don't do this, Sam…"

"Fine," she said sharply, her hands moving down to the front of his shoulders and pushing him back against the locker hard. "If I have to be cruel to be kind then so be it, Casey!"

He shrank back but he couldn't escape her, his possessed friend. But a glimmer of hope shinned through, as he saw Zeke peak over the corner… holding the gun posed to fire at the back of Sam's head.

"No!" Casey cried.

The Sam Thing snarled and looked over her shoulder, red feelers snaking out of her mouth, and saw Zeke there… but she had not enough time to run or fight back before she was struck in the head by the handle of the gun, as Zeke had switched to holding the barrel at Casey's request.

She gave a low grunt and fell to the side of Casey, her legs entangled with his.

Zeke came over and helped Casey to his feet.

"What is up with girls and hitting on me when they're infected?" Casey asked, wide-eyed and seriously unknowing. "Geeze…"

Though Zeke had no time to answer, as the giant mutated thing that had been Marybeth was now looming above they. They broke into a sprint, each on the other side of the isles of lockers, but The Queen Bee caught Zeke and, ironically, hurled him into the very isle Casey would hide in…

Sam groaned. She was lying on her back, on the floor, her head hurt like a mother fucker, and some asshole wouldn't stop nudging her shoulder, trying to wake her up.

"Sam?" a soft voice and the nudging stopped.

"Casey?"

Her eyelids parted, just a little, to confirm her suspicion. There was Casey, on his knees on the ground beside her, a hand still resting on her shoulder. He looked pretty bad… like he'd been in a fight…

"Are you… you?" he couldn't help but smile a small, hopeful smile.

"No, Casey," she said, sitting up with a little bit of his help. "I'm Barbara Walters… with one hell of a hangover. What kind of question is that?"

His smile grew full now, with one little cough of a chuckle, and he threw his arms around her in a hug. She hugged him back, feeling a wee bit confused… yet comforted, somehow, by the warmth in him and his holding her.

"… My head hurts," she groaned, after a long moment of silent nothing.

"That's because you got hit the head," he said, voice barely above a whispered.

"… That's right… Casey!" Sam gently pushed him away from her, but let her hands still rest on his shoulders, so he let his hands stay on her sides. "That's right! Zeke… he hit me…with… a gun, the handle of a gun… because… because I wasn't me." She looked at him with wide eyes. "I remember now! I wasn't me! I was someone else! I was in my body but I couldn't move; someone was doing it for me… or, I should say, instead of me."

Casey nodded. "The aliens…"

"Marybeth," Sam gasped. "She… Where is she?"

"Dead," said Casey. "C'mon, I'll tell you about it later, let's just go check on Stokely now, okay?" another warm smile.

"Okay," said Sam, with a quick nod.

Casey helped her to stand up and they both stumbled through the mess Marybeth in Queen Bee form had made of the locker room, until they came to the fence enclosed storage area. Inside, Stokely was lying on the floor, out like a light, with little aliens shriveling up and dying into dust on the floor.

Casey undid the lock and when they stepped in the aliens had dissipated entirely. He pushed around their dust with his foot and then they knelt down in front of her and Casey pulled off another perfectly done wake-someone-up-by-nudging-their-shoulder-until-you've-annoyed-the-piss-out-of-them.

Stokely opened her eyes, and blinked them several times.

"Good morning, moonshine," said Sam, playing on Stokely's gothiness with moonshine rather then sunshine.

"Are you okay?" Casey whispered.

"I think so," she said in a groggy voice, and began attempting to sit up. "I hope so."

Again, Casey smiled stupidly, so happy it was finally over, and he got everyone – even the shit heads – back. When Stokely had managed to sit up, Casey started it, but they all ended in a group hug.

Everyone jumped and gasped, as there was a loud crashing sound on the side of the cage. Casey jerked around and cried: "_Zeke!_"

Yes, only Zeke… clinging to the chain link, blood all over the side of his face, but still, only Zeke. "Is it over?" he asked.

"Yeah," Casey said. "It's over…"

Both boys smiled, and then Zeke laughed.

… He actually _laughed_.


	17. Poor Girl

_Takes what she gives_

_You don't feel sorry for her_

_When you fell out of the starlight inn_

_You were too hurt to walk to bad to begin_

_I looked at the sign but I couldn't feel sad for you_

_Takes what she gives_

_You don't cry when you kiss her…_

– from Poor Girl by X

About a month went by, more of less… preferably the former.

At first, no one believed them… the police saw the facts: a group of kids, the scat they'd taken, a gun with their finger prints all over it, a missing student and several missing faculty members, and a story too far out of this world to just say "Okay, I'll believe that" to. There were countless questions and accusations, everyone in a separate room, but they all told the same story, before they let them go home… it wasn't until more people began coming forwards – mostly people that Delilah had talked in to admitting to remembering, because she couldn't stand the thought of not being believed and maybe even believed to be a Sci-Fi nut case… that's when word began to spread, and people who didn't remember began to want to hear the story, and the reporters started showing up… and people started to believe.

Most people didn't remember what they did while being controlled… some did, though. Sam remembered, but Delilah didn't… Stokely remembered, but Stan didn't… it was totally hit or miss… and the fact of the matter was; almost no one did.

Stokely and Stan started dating less then a week after that night in the gym, and Stokely went normal (therefore making her so much less cool in Sam's eyes), and Stan really did stay off the team and tried to get good grades… _tried_… and Sam decided right away that she would never tell Stokely about that day in the Gym with Stan… of course, she had made one wise comment when they very first started dating about how Stan "sure does like his freaks"… It wasn't until after about a week or two, that they'd already fallen madly in love with each other, that Stan asked her not to tell Stokely… and she agreed saying she wouldn't dream of it.

Anyway… Zeke, surprisingly, decided to join the team, gave in to statutory rape by dating Ms. Burke (a teacher), and stopped dealing drugs (which made him cool to hang out with in Sam's eyes), mostly because of Delilah smashing all his shit and such… Mr. Connor changed his mind, and decided it was okay for Sam and Casey to hang out again… Delilah started dating Casey, no doubt because of all the attention he got over the month, people wanting to hear his story, reporters and TV crews, all sorts of things… Delilah digged the attention, and seemed to enjoy being known as the hero's girlfriend… though it seemed that only Sam could see this.

She tried to let Casey be delusionally happy, though. She smiled and didn't say a word when he told her about Delilah, and how much he liked her, and the things they did together… and whenever Delilah and Casey would hang out together; she would come up with some excuse why she had to go, and avoid them as a couple.

… Which didn't leave nearly as much time to hang out with Casey as it used to…

Though, as five weeks passed, people began to forget, or not care anymore, and things began to get as close to normal as they could… Casey got beat up again, and of course Sam would hear about it, find him, comfort him, and then kick the living shit out of the offender. She would always be his guardian, no matter what happened with Delilah.

By the sixth week Sam had people fearing again, but that didn't stop them from beating on and verbally harassing Casey, it never would… infact, the whole "geeky alien obsessed" sort of cliché seemed to make the shit heads even more into it.

Sam had thought Delilah would have broken up with Casey as soon as she heard about him getting beat up again, but she didn't… maybe even Delilah had half a brain, and learned after she had got to know him that he really was a spectacular guy… or, maybe, she had some other vein and stereo-typical reason up her sleeve; Sam didn't know. She didn't care, either, as long as Delilah didn't hurt Casey.

But again, he became the class wuss… and again, Sam became his protectorate against the morons.

Sam's soul felt deeper and darker and more full of despair then ever then… but all in a numb sort of way she would have never confided in anyone else… except for one person; except for Casey. But he was not there… and that was really the cause of this emptiness – not the changes in everything else – which she would never even have admitted to herself. She was so lonely…

… But the next important part of our story doesn't begin until seven weeks had passed, a week short of two months, since the horror of Marybeth.


	18. Part Three

--I don't own Casey, I don't own Delilah, I don't own Harrington, I don't own The Faculty or anything to do with The Faculty. Sam is mine; I do own her. Please ask permission before using her. This'll be the final part of this story, so I hope you enjoy…--

_You held my hand and walked me home  
I know while you gave me that kiss_  
_It was something like this  
It made me go ooh, ooh  
You wiped my tears, got rid of all my fears  
Why did you have to go?  
Guess it wasn't enough  
To take up some of my love_  
_Gosh, you're so hard to trust…_  
– from Don't Tell Me by Avril Lavigne

_Friday – _Sam took the bus home by herself… she figured Casey must have just gotten a ride from Delilah… it wouldn't be the first time. She rode in silence, feeling that long-lived emptiness, and perhaps slightly betrayed.

She felt a very small nudge of relief as the bus stopped in front of her house. Quickly, she gathered her things and head towards the front door. Once there; she thumbled for her key…

Finally, she got the lock in the door and pushed it open. She stepped in the kitchen, swung her backpack off her shoulders, but nearly jumped out of her skin as someone else inside the room spoke.

"Hi Sammy," it was her mother. "Have a nice day at school?"

"What the hell are you doing home?" Sam exclaimed, staring at her mother who was standing at the counter by the phone, looking through some book.

"Got the afternoon off," Mrs. Warren said this not only as if it was a truly terrible things, but also as if she were trying to spare Sam's feelings even through saying it yet not… really trying… at all…

"Oh," Sam muttered, throwing off her "coat", and began to go through her backpack, pulling out her homework, she organized it and then took it into the living room where she dropped it on the coffee table, got out a pencil, and began to do it.

"… Oh, Sammy, I almost forgot," her mother called from the kitchen after she'd only been sitting down for a few minutes. "You got a call while you were out."

"Yeah, who from?" Sam called back, not looking up from her papers.

"I don't know. Some guy named Casey…"

"Casey?" Sam echoed, looking up now.

"Yeah…" a pause. "… He sounded pretty upset…"

Sam jumped up, walked at a very quick pace into the kitchen, grabbed the cordless phone, turned and flew back into the living room, up the stairs, and into her bedroom where she shut the door and then began punching Casey's number in almost immediately afterwards. It rang only once before someone picked up…

"Hello?"

"Casey?"

"Sam?" his voice cracked.

"Casey?" her throat was becoming tight, and she swallowed hard trying to make it loosen. "Casey, what's wrong?"

"C-can you come over?" his voice was so small, like a young child's, and sounded like he was going to brake down at any given moments.

"I'll be right there," she promised, and then hung up, dashed back downstairs, grabbed her zip-up hoodie off the chair in the kitchen where she had left it, ignored her mother's stream of questions, and bolted out the door.

Sam stood on the Connors' doorstep now. She knocked, and waited… no one answered. She knocked again, then looked down at the knob… she waited, and still no one came, so she grabbed the knob and twisted. The door wasn't locked… and she was expected, anyway… She stepped inside, shut the door silently behind her, and the turned back to the room, the living room… no one was in there… and everything was so still and quiet.

"Casey?" she called. She waited, allowing her plaid over-shirt to slip off her body, casting it away onto the couch carelessly. No answer. She tried it only one more time, getting the same results, before moving to the stairs. She climbed to the second floors. "Casey?"

"Sam?" his voice was still so small, and muffled behind the door. Her eyes flicked over to the door to his bedroom and she walked up to it, stepped inside, and shut it behind her before flinging herself around.

Casey was sitting on the floor at the side of his bed facing into the room, his arms wrapped loosely around his knees holding them to his body. He turned his head to look up at her, and his eyes were puffy and rimmed with pink and his cheeks were shinning with wet tracks of tears already fallen.

"Oh, God, Casey," she whispered without even thinking about it, it was as if it used her voice without so much as even asking. She stalked over, quickly, and sat down to his left, farther away from the door. She looked at him with an unwavering stare and firey concern clear in her eyes. "What's wrong?"

He looked away, his eyes growing glossy as if he were going to cry again. "I'm sorry t-to call you here, Sam, I-I just didn't know who else to t-turn to…"

"Forget it," she said gently. "Just tell me what happened."

"D–" He faltered. "… Delilah broke up with me…"

Sam stopped. Casey bit his lip to stop it from trembling. She set a hand on his shoulder and he looked back up at her, blue eyes shinning even in the very scarce light there was in his room at the moment.

"… Want me to kill her for you?" Sam asked, in a delicate voice. "I'll kill her for you, Casey."

Casey let out a small laugh, but it was laden with the deepest pain and sadness. "… It was after school," he began to tell Sam the story. She didn't want to hear it, because she knew it would be truly horrible in every sense of the word, but she knew he needed to tell. "I went to see her like I always do, you know? A-and I tried to kiss her, but she wouldn't let me… that's when I noticed she had this weird look on her face… so I asked her what was wrong a-and she said… she said, 'I'm sorry, it's over'. Just like that! That simple! And of course I was shocked so I asked her to tell me why… and she said that it was because… my popularity was falling fast and that no one believes us and thinks I'm crazy and that she couldn't be seen with me anymore because of how it could effect her public image…" he practically spat the last two words.

Sam frowned. This was all her fault… she'd known better! She had known that the only reason Delilah had ever been with Casey was to get her face on all the magazine covers, she had known all along… she had known that this was going to happen… Oh, why hadn't she told him? She just wanted so much for him to be happy… and would he have even believed her?

"Okay, forget it," Sam stated openly. "Now I'm killing her whether you like it or not…"

He smiled, but it looked forced… and their eyes met and locked… blue on gray… and they sat there, unmoving, for a long moment, just staring at each other, mostly in the eyes… before Sam titled her head a little, and moved it closer to his… but she hesitated halfway, her eyes moving restlessly. What was she doing? But she couldn't think, she didn't know why… she looked back up and saw that Casey had moved his head in her direction, too, about a quarter of the way they started out with, but he was hesitating even worse then she was. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but quickly shut it again. She tipped her head to one direction a little, and he moved just a little closer, until there lips were brushing against each others, before they seemed to both decide to just do it…

Their lips locked, and they kissed. Casey's hand slipped up to the gentle curve of her hip, while her hand slipped around to hold the back of his neck. The kiss was soft in the beginning, gentle… but soon it would grow deeper… it would grow harder, more passionate… until everything was forgotten in the two, except for this kiss, this blissful little exchange… and soon they were lying on the bed, him on top of her, kissing hungrily in their own little world.

Sam's cap had fallen off in the process of getting on the bed.

Casey gave a little moan of surprise as he felt her long fingers wrap around his hands, but she ignored it. She guided his hands slowly up from where they had been on her sides and under her shirt to guide him through sliding it up off her body.

They both sat up, as if guided by the same force on the same path at the same time, him in her lap, and Casey gently pulled the shirt off her, slipping it over her head and arms. She took the shirt from him and tossed it away, leaving the unwanted garment behind, and her in her soft white bra, before slumping back on her back on the bed again, pulling Casey down with her, fingers laced in _his_ shirt. Revising their kiss, Sam's hands slid down from his collar and began to unbutton his shirt… but she didn't make it past the third button, before it hit him what they were doing…

"No," he breathed, pulling away from her and grasping her hands, on in either of his own. Her eyes popped open and she looked at him, a little surprised. There was a pause, before he let her wrists go and then slumped down off of her and onto his side beside her on the bed. They were quiet and still for a minutes, before a sob forced its way out of Casey's body.

Sam turned her head to look at him. His chin was pressed to his chest, his jaw was clenched, his eyes were squeezed shut, and his shoulder's shook with the ware of his sorrows and sobs. He tried to bite back the sobs that came and came over and over again like hiccups, sounding like choked whimpers.

She frowned, before turning over onto her side, and pulling him closer. He rested his head against her breast and began to cry. She rested her chin atop his head and wrapped one arm around his shoulders and the other around his neck with her fingers running through his hair.

"_Shh_," she whispered in a quiet, soothing breath of a voice. "_Shh, _it's okay… it's okay, Casey, it's alright… _shh_…_ shh_…" Of course, none of this changed him… and she knew it wouldn't… but that couldn't stop her from trying… nothing could ever stop her from trying.

She stayed until Casey had fallen asleep. She waited until the sobbing stopped, and he lay still, and his breathing came in a steady rhythm, and even beyond that to make sure he was truly deep in sleep… all the while, she listened for the sound of tires on the gravel driveway or the front door opening or people moving around downstairs… there were none, luckily, she wouldn't have to deal with his parents.

After that she went home, brought her homework up to her room, but couldn't do it at all… Mr. Tate wasn't going to be too happy if she didn't finish the 1,000 word essay she was supposed to write for his class, but she couldn't really care… her mind was set on Casey, worried about him, and what he might do now that… that Delilah had shown her true colors once again.

The next school day was very quiet and slow, save for at lunch time when Gabe, who had heard about Delilah breaking up with him, made fun of Casey alerting the entire school about the event, where Sam had lost it and… well, let's just say it had taken Stan (who had been sitting with Stokely only a tree farther away) quite a bit of trouble, having pulled her by the back of the shirt and have dropped her a couple times to narrowly avoid a blind lashing, to pull her off the jock… not that he hadn't gotten a hit or two in on her… but still.

After that day Casey and Sam started spending less time together, which was just as much time as they'd spent together when he was with Delilah: slim to none.

Sam didn't know what had imposed the separation… had it been the kissing? The time they'd spent apart during Delilah's rein? The number she'd done on Gabe? She didn't know… it was probably the kissing… but a week passed by, just like that, that they remained apart… and that familiar feeling that hey were losing each other came into play again… and that familiar question of 'how can they stop it?'… But always; it felt a lost cause…


	19. Blue

Night falls  
I fall  
And where were you?  
And where were you?

_Monday – _Casey clicked off the light. Darkness, with the strange blue taint of moonlight, flooded the room like blood in _The Shinning_. He dragged his heavy limbs a crossed the room and threw himself down on his bed, bouncing slightly once or twice, before coming to a rest in the soft folds of fabrics of his quilt.

He lied still; eyes open but barely seeing, and store forward at the ceiling, at the shapes of the shadows cast upon it. There was a time, like a long drawn out breath, where he seemed to think nothing at all, before his mind slowly started up again, and began to wander, and shortly after followed his eyes.

He saw the pictures of Delilah… beautiful, beautiful Delilah… he'd had a crush on her since _seventh grade_, and he'd won her heart a couple months ago… and to think, it only took saving the world from an alien invasion to do it, too… but that was no more, now, was it? Even that wasn't enough…

_Warm skin  
Wolf grin  
And where were you?_

He thought about her. He thought about the way she smelled, the way her hair fell around her face, the way she kissed, the feel of her soft skin under his hands… he thought about her Cheshire cat smile, and that gleam she always got in her eyes when she had an idea… he thought about her words, and the way she hurt people with them, and the way she would never stop hurting people with them, and the way he had been subjected to them many a time.

He frowned, and tried forced those thoughts out of his head but they would not go away. He knew they would start up again… hell, they already had… no directly in his face, like they used to be, but he'd seen her talking with Tina and Laura, looking at him and giggling ruthlessly. He didn't know what they were saying, but he knew what the meaning behind it all was…

But, somehow, all of the sudden, that thought didn't seem as horrible as it always had. Somehow, all of the sudden, he had the strange sense that he could take it, that it wasn't going to be that big of a deal… that thing would just go back to the way they were, and it would be as if it had never happened, and that didn't bother him so much, somehow…

His mind and eyes wandered again… they wandered slowly over to another small cluster of pictures; his pictures of Sam.

Sam… she was like no one he'd ever seen in his whole life. She was quick-tongued, a bit (or perhaps more then a bit…) violent, but the things she said and did… he could find no explanation for some of them, and often had no idea what she was _going_ to do… like why she had chosen to be his friend, to protect him, to break down what she'd called "the curtain around his heart"… why, even when it meant exile and name-calling and nasty-rumor-spreading and psychical-assault, she _still_ chose to hang on to him, to suffer his fate no matter how hard he tried to push her away from it.

He smiled, slightly, a half smile, without even realizing it, as he thought of the things she'd done in their early friendship, and the way she'd torn down his walls and replaced them with her own self as a shield. He also remembered how that night had ended, when they'd fallen asleep…

_I fell into the moon  
And it covered you in blue  
I fell into the moon  
Can I make it right?  
Can I spend the night?_

It was a secret, now and forever, he thought, that he'd keep… she'd fallen asleep before him. He had still been talking in a low, breathy whisper when he realized she was no longer listening… he'd asked her a question, though he couldn't remember what it was anymore, and had only looked at her when she hadn't answered.

The failing sun had sent a long square beam of light through his window into his room, and it had lit her up in it's rich golden rays, making her look like an autumn fairy, though a little queerer in her matter of dress. Her face was calm and smooth, the gray/blue of her eyes hidden behind solid lids and long black lashes, and her breath was coming in softly and slowly, a steady rhythm. She had been lying on her back but her head was turned towards him, like she'd fallen asleep looking at him.

He had studied her every feature carefully then, shocked that _Sam_ could look so… well… _beautiful_. He'd never thought of Sam like that, like he did with someone like Delilah or something. Infact he'd never even thought to think of Sam like that. She was _Sam_, for Christ's sake!

It was a sudden thought to take a picture, and he did it totally on impulse, mostly because his camera was within arms length so he wouldn't have to move which might disturb her. It occurred to him afterwards to wonder if the picture would still be as special without color, in black and white, but he chose not to think about it.

He'd fallen asleep watching her turn from gold to blue.

High tide  
Inside  
The air is dew  
And where were you?  
While I  
I died  
And where were you?

He store at the developed picture on the wall, added to the Sam archive… no, the loss of color really hadn't been _too_ big of a fault in the picture. He could still see it; he could still feel it; he could still hear it… He could still see the gold; he could still feel the warmth; he could still hear her breathing…

Maybe that was why, Casey pondered hesitantly as he stared at the photo through the darkness. Maybe it was because of her… maybe he could deal with Delilah leaving him because maybe… _just maybe_… maybe he loved Sam.

Another memory from the night he let it all go came back to him. In a half awake/half asleep state, he'd wrapped his arm around her belly… he remembered the corner her shirt had rode up, and he'd felt a patch of her skin under his wrist… so warm, so soft… perfect, somehow, even if it wasn't really.

Had he loved her then? Had he fallen in love with her at that moment? Had he been in love with her all this time?

Did he really even care about Delilah anymore? He'd caught himself thinking more then once or twice that he'd understood what Sam meant about her being a "super bitch from hell"… He'd caught himself feeling more then once or twice that she was being ungodly annoying… before she… left… him…

Was this Sam's fault? Had she cured him of his blind love for Delilah? Had he cured himself by falling in love with Sam?

_No!_, he thought sharply; _What__ am I thinking? Sam… Sam is my friend… Sam is my best friend… she's the only person who was ever really there for me_._ I can't love her… if I love her… what would happen then? What if she doesn't love me back? What could it do to what we already have? Would she hate me for it? I couldn't bare it if she hated me…_

Another flash of memory, from the night they'd destroyed the aliens, while Sam had been possessed by one of them: "I love you… I love you, Casey… as so much more then a friend…"

_No_, he shuddered, looking away from the picture and burying his face in his pillow; _It's__ not worth it, it's not worth it…_

_I –can't– love Sam…_

He forced all the thoughts away, cast them out if you will, from his mind and rolled onto his side away from the photo.

**  
**_I crawled out of the world  
And you said I shouldn't stay  
I crawled out of the world_

Casey pulled the covers up over his head and willed himself not to think anymore tonight… but he knew exactly what he was going to do. He never would have admitted it, but, in the deepest, darkest corners of the very back of his mind, he knew…

Can I make it right?  
Can I spend the night…  
Alone?

_– from Blue by Angie Hart._


	20. CrazyForThisGirl

--It seems, sadly, that we've come to the end of our tale, my friends... I'm so sad it's over, but I know I have to let it go. Thanks to everyone so much for their support! I hope you all enjoy the grand finale; the last stand of Casey and Sam… --

_She was the one to hold me  
The night the sky fell down  
What was I thinking when  
The world didn't end  
Why didn't I know  
What I know now…_  
--from _Crazy For This Girl _by Evan and Jaron  
.

_Tuesday – _Sam was sitting alone, with her long hair pulled back in a high ponytail and hanging out of the hole above the adjustable part of a hot pink baseball cap. She was eating her lunch in silence.

Actually, she was almost finished, just consuming the last of her miniature bag of _Doritos_… Casey was off somewhere, probably sitting on the bleachers, or walking around taking pictures…

Sam took a long drag out of the straw of her orange juice, finishing it. She stuffed it inside the empty chip bag and crumpled them up together, with some effort. Looking around her, she noticed that the cozy little stone tables and blankets sitting on the grass were still rather populated with peoples. She looked to her right, where Stokely was sitting under her normal table, except with Stan rather then a book. They were laughing and it seemed that Stan was trying to kiss Stokely's neck but she didn't want him to because it tickled.

"Hey, Stokes," Sam called, interrupting them. They both looked up at her. "Any idea what time it is?"

Stan bent his wrist on the arm that was wrapped around Stokely so that the bottom of it was pointing upwards. "What does that say, baby?" Sam barely heard him say to Stokely. She read it, told him, and then they both looked up.

"12:18!" Stan called, with Stokely saying it almost at the same time, but just a pinch later then him, so she repeated it, and then they went back to their kissing game.

Sam frowned and looked back at the crumpled up remains of her lunch… still some minutes before classes started again… she'd finished early.

"Hey, Sam," said someone, swinging to sit down beside her. She turned her head quickly to see who it was…

"Oh, hi… Case," she hadn't expected him at all. "What's up?"

He shrugged. "Just wanted to talk to you… to be around you…"

Sam smiled meekly, and looked down at the ground. How had this happened? She didn't even feel right just sitting and talking to Casey… Delilah had always threatened Sam, that she'd break her; that she'd break them… she really _had_ won, hadn't she?

"Sam," he said softly, drawing her attention back to him.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"'Course…"

"When you were… _infected_," he began, turning his eyes to the ground rather then looking at her now. "Was it true… what you said?"

"Which thing?" she shot back. "If you mean what I said about buggy and possessed being better then, no, but if you mean what I said about always being there for you, yes."

"I-I don't mean either of those thing," a very slight pink, like rose mist, discolored his cheeks. "I mean what you said about… _liking_ me… as more then a friend."

He waited, expecting the worst, but when nothing came he looked up hesitantly. Sam was just staring at him, eyes blinking, mouth slightly agar, emotionless besides a bit of shock and something else… something, he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Why do you even need to know that?" Suddenly, she pushing her self away from the table, standing and looking in the opposite direction, her arms crossed over her upper abdomen insecurely. "… So, yeah, it-it's true, alright? But don't go all… _freak show_ on me, okay? I get the picture; I got the picture a long to ago. You like Delilah, you've always liked Delilah, and I am _not_ going to play sloppy seconds to my worst enemy, got that?"

A sympathetic expression was on Casey's face, now, and he stood up from the table as well and walked over to where Sam was standing. When he was right behind her, she whirled around.

"So what does it matter? What do you care? Why did you even need to know that? I thought you were my friend, Casey Connor, and now you're trying to play me like a card in your stupid game with the biggest slut this world had ever _known!_"

Meanwhile, as she let out strings of emotional words trying to hide the emotions inside and failing miserably, he repeated her name twice trying to get her to stop. Finally, when patience was lost, the third time her grasped her head still and said her name a little louder and much more persistence, "_Sam!_"

She stopped, and tightened her lips to keep them from trembling.

"Listen to me," he said softly, lowering his voice again. He said slowly; "_I don't want Delilah_."

"Y-you don't?" her voice was shaky. She shook her head softly in his hands, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"No," he shook his head softly, keeping eye contact… so intense… so blue…

"… What are you getting at, Casey?"

He smiled, ever so slightly. "I want _you_…" and he paused only for a moment, before his hands left her cheeks. It all happened so fast! One grasped the rim of her baseball cap and turned it around backwards over her ponytail, the other; gently touching the nap of her neck, ushered her face to his with the florescent blue eyes half opened… and he kissed her.

She seemed to melt into him, then, and fit perfectly against him, her elbows bending so that her hands could hold the backs of his arms, his hands holding her face to his so she couldn't turn away… just incase. The kiss was as sweet as bliss, and when it ended they were both breathing deeper then normal.

She head slipped back but he still held it, so she left her hands on his upper arms. He was staring her in the eyes, though his eyes did wonder just a little… and after a moment of only breathing, her whispered: –

"I love you, Sam…"

She let out a little sob of a laugh; perhaps because this all seemed so surreal at the same time it _was_ real… and a liar, someone who was going to play jealousy games, _especially_ with their best friend, their only friend, as a pawn, was _not_ Casey. "… You know what?"

"What?"

"I love you, too, Casey."

That night, Sam dreamed again…

She saw the water, all around her, with the unmoving students and the teachers on the floor of the oceans… but now, she saw Marybeth fly up above the surface, and explode from the heat of the sun into a million little golden sparks, floating down to the water and releasing everyone. She saw all the students around her come to life, and immediately begin swimming fiercely for the shore. She saw the teachers – not all of them, because they scat jabbed a few, but most, were resurrected and swam as well… and lastly, she saw Casey. He smiled at her, took her by the hand, and they swam to the surface together… and everyone was free… almost no one drown, and everything was alright.

The End


End file.
